


Farfalle

by baeconandeggs, sw3ets0ciopath



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Frottage, Language, M/M, Making Out, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 09:41:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6978175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeconandeggs/pseuds/baeconandeggs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sw3ets0ciopath/pseuds/sw3ets0ciopath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baekhyun is the waiter in skintight jeans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Farfalle

**Author's Note:**

> self-beta’d. to the mods: thank you for being so patient with me even though i procrastinated like mad and went so over my deadlines they probably thought i dropped out. dear prompter, i hope you enjoy at least some part of this fic!

Chanyeol hopes this isn’t how he’s going to spend the rest of his summer. 

He’s not really prepared for anyone to see him at the moment. Head down under a table, ass (or lack thereof, according to Jongdae) stuck in the air. He wriggles a little in concentration to reach the last Coke can that somehow lodged itself at the very back of a restaurant booth. Chanyeol vows internally to make sure he adds tonight to the list of things that Jongdae called Very Good Ideas but most people just called stupid. Or idiotic. Both, usually.

When Chanyeol’s mother had offered him the job of manager at the new branch of Viva Polo in Seoul, he was pretty sure there was nothing said about cleaning up after his fellow employees after they trash the restaurant. And this is all before the grand opening even happens, which is a miracle, really. But, Chanyeol finds, that’s what usually happens when he’s around Jongdae. Lots of miracles tend to pop up.

Before last month, the only Italian food Jongdae knew was pizza. Somehow, he’d gotten himself hired to work at Viva Polo, an _Italian_ restaurant (Chanyeol doesn’t understand either). He probably charmed Chanyeol’s mother during the interview and sidetracked her with compliments because there’s _no way_ Jongdae got the job for his table-waiting skills. 

Beyond that, Jongdae had recruited a number of acquaintances that happened to all attend the same college as he and Jongdae, the Seoul Institute of the Arts. Chanyeol thought his mother would at least have the skill to pick out the people who were bullshitting from those who actually knew what they were doing. Apparently not, as it turned out.

Jongdae convinced him that it was a great idea to have a little get-together at Viva Polo for all the staff the night before the restaurant opened. _“There’s only twelve of us, and that’s counting you and me,” Jongdae had pointed out. “Nothing’s going to get out of hand.”_ Despite what Jongdae said, one of the guys didn’t even bother to show up tonight, making only eleven of them. Chanyeol thinks it’s more of a testament to the consequences of underestimating what socially-awkward college students can do when locked in a restaurant with excessive amounts of soda. 

He finally fishes the soda can out, grimacing at the leftover Coke that had left a sticky trail down the can’s side. The restaurant’s finally clean, though—He checks the clock. It’s just taken him about two hours since everyone left at midnight. 

There’s no one around—not even on the streets outside, and definitely not in Viva Polo. Chanyeol figures he’s earned the right to slam-dunk the can into the trash and do a little victory dance. So he does.

And just as Chanyeol finishes pumping his fists in the air and runs out of breath to continue ranting at the trash can (hey, it’s two A.M.), he hears a cough from behind him. And if coughs could sound amused, this one sure did. 

Chanyeol swivels around, trying resolutely not to be embarrassed. _They can’t judge_ , he reminds himself defensively.

It doesn’t really help when he finally pinpoints the source of the sound. There’s a boy around his age at the door. While Chanyeol’s recovering, the stranger takes it upon himself to pull up a chair. He lounges like that, the oversized neckline of his shirt exposing sharp collarbones to the air conditioning running in the shop. Vaguely, Chanyeol registers the stranger’s dark eyes on him. It’s not intimidating, exactly, but it does something for the nervous fluttering in Chanyeol’s stomach.

“Sir,” he tries, “The grand opening’s on the first of June.” After a moment’s pause, he supplies helpfully, “You know. Tomorrow.” He winces. _Of course he knows, idiot._

The stranger seems to be thinking along the same lines. “I do know, actually.”

“Right,” Chanyeol says, feeling the need to flash a thumbs-up. “Cool.” After a pause, he asks, “Can I help you?” 

The silence drags on a few moments too long for Chanyeol’s liking. It might have something to do with the stranger’s open appraisal of Chanyeol’s face, and maybe Chanyeol breaks his gaze for a second because there’s just a single drop of sweat tracing down the boy’s neck and _wow_ , he suddenly needs to catch a breath. Chanyeol swallows and feels immediately guilty for staring too long.

He misses how the other boy seems on the verge of saying something and speaks up again in hopes of getting his brain to shut up. “I can’t really serve you anything right now, but maybe you’re thirsty?” 

Chanyeol adds hurriedly, “Not thirsty _thirsty_ , of course. Shit, I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to imply anything, because of course you wouldn’t—I mean—“ He sighs in defeat. “Do you want anything to drink?” Chanyeol kind of wants someone, anyone, to just smack a hand over his mouth and keep him from saying anything worse. 

Luckily, the male across from him seems not to be put off. He suppresses a laugh instead, and murmurs, “Cute.” 

Involuntarily, Chanyeol can feel himself reddening, and he’s not sure what for at this point. “Uh, thanks?” he says very eloquently. 

“You’re welcome. I’ll remind you anytime.” The guy flashes an easy grin. “Here.” He pulls out the chair next to his at the table and gestures at Chanyeol. “I’m not thirsty, but I could use something else.” 

Chanyeol flops into the seat gratefully. “What do you mean?”

“Are you questioning me? Isn’t there something in your service policy about always pleasing the customer?” He keeps a straight face, but Chanyeol finds something mischievous in his look and his stomach drops just a little. “Wouldn’t you like to please me?” His voice drops then, low and warm and _no_ , Chanyeol would absolutely not like to please anyone, especially not him, nope.

Wide-eyed and ears warm, Chanyeol tries to subtly scoot himself back a bit and nearly ends up at the next table. “Sir—“ 

“Baekhyun,” the boy supplies, smirk gracing his lips. “And I just want your name.”

“It’s Chanyeol,” Chanyeol says, and God, that took effort.

Baekhyun looks mildly surprised. “You wouldn’t happen to be Park Chanyeol, would you?” 

“I would, actually.” Chanyeol points to his name tag out of habit, since he’d been doing the same thing over and over when he met the other employees earlier. 

“That says ‘My name is Teeth-Rich.’ Just so you know.”

Chanyeol immediately slaps his hand over the tag. He makes a mental note not to ever let Jongdae near him when he offers to help. He coughs. “Thanks,” he says. “Seems like I’m saying that really often tonight.” 

“What can I say, I’m always happy to help.” Baekhyun salutes to him before standing up. “Nice meeting you, Boss.” At the confused look on Chanyeol’s face, Baekhyun laughs, loud and full as he strides back out into the night. 

***

It hit Chanyeol right as Baekhyun left that he was apparently the employee that didn’t turn up when everyone else did. At a normal time of night, that is. During the twenty-minute walk from his apartment to Viva Polo on June first (he cringes a little at the reminder), Chanyeol has a lot of time to reflect. 

For more pressing matters, Chanyeol’s firstly not sure how he’s going to face Baekhyun every day at work from now on. Secondly (a considerably less pressing matter), Chanyeol’s not sure that his crew has much (or any) experience at working in a restaurant, hence the early meet-up at Viva Polo to prepare before the lunch shift. 

As he pushes through the doors, Chanyeol finds that Jongdae had already unlocked them and let some of the workers in. Chanyeol tries to match the names to the faces. After all, they all look different when adhering to the dress code. 

Currently, there’s Luhan, the upperclassman who looks like a freshman with his self-proclaimed “sparkly” eyes, leaning against the podium. He’s with Minseok, chatting animatedly about soccer. 

It’s hard not to remember Minseok, actually. He’s quiet and innocent-looking with his small hands and childish smile, but all of that clearly changed as soon it got late the night before. Chanyeol distinctly remembers Luhan cheering on the sidelines when Minseok was dared to write his name in the air with his butt. For some reason, he also has a miscellaneous image in his mind of Luhan with his hand up Minseok’s shirt. Chanyeol shakes his head to clear his thoughts. 

As he heads toward the kitchen, Kyungsoo, the head cook, opens the door with a sour expression that barely brightens when he sees Chanyeol. “Finally, you’re here,” he sighs, grabbing hold of Chanyeol’s arm. “Maybe you can help me with something.”

“My useless line cooks—“ Kyungsoo points at where Sehun and Jongin are huddled in a corner, “won’t stop laughing. It’s like SpongeBob and Patrick over here.”

“I doubt they know how to cook. I was just asking them their favorite Italian dish and—“

Joonmyun places a set of pots and pans on the counter and starts diligently adjusting the stove. “It’s true,” he calls, “I live in the same dorm as them, and Sehun is…” he coughs, “…famous for his pan-fried sugar ramen, let’s say.” 

Kyungsoo closes his eyes and breathes deeply. “There are so many things wrong with that statement. For starters, ramen is definitely not Italian.” 

“Hey!” Sehun sounds mildly affronted from the other side of the room. “I was under the impression that all pasta was Italian.” 

“Obviously not because you’re not Italian, you noodle,” Kyungsoo retorts. Joonmyun makes a face like he’s about to sneeze, torn between laughing and coming to Sehun’s defense. Chanyeol’s seriously reconsidering his mother’s judgement in hiring employees. 

“Anyway, they’ve shut up, at least,” Kyungsoo reasons. 

“What were they doing anyway?” 

“They wouldn’t stop playing with my stash of preserved _urechis unicinctus_.”

Chanyeol pauses. “You know what, never mind.”

The kitchen doors swing open once again and Tao enters, brushing by as Joonmyun exits, muttering something about “avoiding this conversation.”

“You guys are so loud that we can hear you shouting about the stupid penis fish from outside,” Tao says, annoyed. “Some of us are trying to have civilized conversation, you know.” 

Silence suddenly ensues. 

Until it’s broken not even two seconds later by a distinctly wet-sounding slap. Mildly disturbed, Chanyeol starts toward Sehun and Jongin’s corner just to make sure they’re okay while Kyungsoo and Tao remain looking unimpressed. 

When he gets closer, he finds that Jongin is wielding some uncomfortably dick-like thing at Sehun like it’s a floppy sword. Sehun, backed against the wall, scrunches his face in distaste while Jongin nearly loses his grip on the fish. 

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo says calmly from across the room, “get yourself and your pasty boyfriend out of here before I need a jar to preserve some real penises.” Despite his deadpan threat (Chanyeol’s a little shaken if he’s honest), the two younger boys don’t seem abashed. Chanyeol catches Kyungsoo swiping half-heartedly at Sehun with a small smile on his face afterwards, and Chanyeol thinks it’s actually kind of cute how they pretend to be at each other’s throats.

 

The first thing Chanyeol notices after he finally leaves the kitchen is that Baekhyun had arrived. It’s good timing anyway, since they should all be prepared and waiting for the customers. 

The second thing Chanyeol notices is that Baekhyun is actually dressed according to the dress code. Which is a pleasant surprise, because for some reason, Chanyeol had gotten the feeling that Baekhyun was the type to do only what he felt like doing. 

Then Chanyeol takes a real look at Baekhyun. Deep breaths, he reminds himself. Simple white button-ups shouldn’t look like this. But on Baekhyun, with the topmost buttons undone and the sleeves messily rolled up, it looks unfairly good. 

Chanyeol chokes a little when he notices Baekhyun’s jeans. They’re devastatingly tight, fitting closely to the sharp angle of his hips. Strategically placed tears and gaping holes teased an eyeful of exposed skin (probably doing more to show than to cover, really), all full thighs and slim calves. 

Steeling himself, Chanyeol sets off in Baekhyun’s direction. Upon seeing him, Baekhyun waves back brightly. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” Baekhyun says.

“It’s been ages, hasn’t it,” Chanyeol deadpans. 

“Nice to see you’ve got a sense of humor,” Baekhyun retorts. “Thought you might’ve swallowed it yesterday, with all your gasping and wheezing.”

Chanyeol makes a face. “It’d be great if you could forget about that, thanks. Let’s restart. You don’t know me. I’m Chanyeol,” he says, tentatively testing his usual bright smile. 

“Baekhyun.” Baekhyun inclines his head with a hint of mocking. 

_Here goes._ Chanyeol starts, “Well, Baekhyun, I’m not sure that this is exactly what I had in mind when I explained the uniform. Maybe I didn’t send the information to you?” Chanyeol flails his arms for emphasis while fixing his eyes determinedly on Baekhyun’s face.

“No, it’s better than what you had in mind, isn’t it?” Baekhyun leans back with a satisfied expression as Chanyeol splutters. 

“I’d almost be offended that you won’t appreciate the effort I put into my outfit.” Baekhyun pouts exaggeratedly. “I would be, anyway, if I didn’t know that you were checking me out earlier.” 

Chanyeol feels a hot flush stinging his cheeks. It seems that some part of his body was always red these days. He’s guilty, too, on top of that. “I—I’m actually really sorry, you know what? I should just—That was kind of creepy, wasn’t it? Jongdae keeps telling me, but I keep ignoring him and maybe I should listen. I’ll absolutely stop doing that, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable—“ 

Baekhyun looks alarmed. _Well, fuck, maybe he shouldn’t ramble like that either._ But Baekhyun puts his hand lightly on Chanyeol’s arm and Chanyeol’s words die in his throat immediately. 

“Whoa, slow down.” Baekhyun shakes his head. A small smile plays on his lips, not teasing or anything, just incredulous. “I swear, you’re too nice. Most people wouldn’t apologize half as much as you would.” He pauses contemplatively. “I don’t mind you staring anyway.”

At this point, Chanyeol just wants to go to Kyungsoo and ask for a couple penis fish to ice his face. “Oh. _Oh_. Well.” He can’t remember what he wanted to ask Baekhyun in the first place for the life of him.

Luckily, Baekhyun prompts him. “So you were saying?” 

Chanyeol clears his throat. “I just wanted to say that technically, I don’t think your outfit fits the dress code, Baekhyun. Would you consider changing out of your jeans for a more…” he pauses, “waiter-like pair of pants?” 

Luhan suddenly pipes in from the side. “What he’s trying to say is that you have a great ass. But your pants are like, ninety percent holes.”

“Uh—“ 

“Wasn’t aiming to get that compliment from you, Lu,” Baekhyun says, “but thanks.”

“And anyway, Sehun’s going to take that as a declaration of war.” Luhan gestures at Baekhyun’s lower half. “You know he takes his title of ‘bubble butt’ very seriously.”

Baekhyun steers Luhan aside. “You can tell Sehun if he complains that it’s game on.” 

He turns his attention back to Chanyeol, who waited awkwardly through the whole exchange. “Right. Since you asked so nicely,” Baekhyun drawls, “No.”

“Great, so—“ Chanyeol stops. “Wait, what?”

Baekhyun goes on. “However, if at any time you feel compelled to peel the jeans off me yourself, you’re welcome to that. No need to apologize or blush, though I have to say it looks good on you.” With a disconcerting wink, he walks away. 

***

The one perk of being manager is that Chanyeol gets to hang around the counter idly when there are fewer customers. There aren’t really any other upsides. Chanyeol has to wait tables and clear them like any other server, since they’re a little short on workers. It’s not bad, though. It doesn’t take much effort to keep a bright smile on since Chanyeol smiles too much anyway and it’s not like he minds picking up dirty dishes. 

The lunch rush is wrapping up now, and there aren’t any new customers to serve. 

Baekhyun is currently helping a table of girls. Though ‘helping’ isn’t exactly the right word. All of them have dyed hair in varying shades of brown and auburn, and the centers of their lips are dabbed with pastel lipstick. They’re pretty, really. And they hide their giggles in their drinks every time Baekhyun speaks. 

Chanyeol sees Baekhyun lean subtly over the backs of their seats and he decides that he needs to save these girls somehow from Baekhyun. The girls have long since finished eating, anyway, he reasons. 

He walks as naturally as possible to table three. Chanyeol tries to make it look casual when he nudges gently at Baekhyun’s back with his elbow. 

“Focus, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol reminds him quietly, but he’s never been that great at whispering and his voice nearly cracks in the middle. He coughs to cover it up and attempts to leave before Baekhyun can ask what the hell he’s doing. But before Chanyeol can run away like Naruto, he’s stopped by one of the customers.

“Excuse me,” the girl with the burgundy lip tint calls out, “are you two together?” Her eyes flicker suspiciously from Baekhyun to Chanyeol. 

“I knew it, Yeonhee,” her friend hisses under her breath. “There’s no way a guy like that can be single. Or interested in any of us.” 

“Actually, we’re not,” Chanyeol cuts in a little too loudly. “It’s our first day, and I was just reminding him to clear your dishes.” He waves his hands to emphasize and nearly knocks over a drink. 

“Really?” Yeonhee brightens. She throws a dirty look at her friend before leaning forward. “You’re kind of cute, too,” she says shyly. 

Chanyeol’s eyes widen. “Thanks. You’re really…nice,” he finishes lamely. He spots their dishes. “I’ll just take these—“ he says hastily as he gathers the plates and stumbles toward the kitchen. “See you soon!” Chanyeol calls over his shoulder.

Baekhyun still stands at table three, looking confusedly after him. 

Yeonhee pouts, but the rest of the girls seem to giggle and whisper among themselves even more intensely. “Baekhyun-ssi, don’t you think he’s cute?”

Baekhyun shakes his head and puts a finger to his lips. “That’s confidential.”

***

Jongdae flips the sign on the door with an exaggerated flourish. Now, the ‘Closed’ side faces outward. 

“Finally,” he sighs. “No offense, but it’s been ten hours and your faces are only funny for the first few.” 

A used napkin is thrown at Jongdae. “You shouldn’t be talking,” Sehun calls. 

Jongdae bats the crumpled ball away and readies himself to shout back when Joonmyun sweeps in. He plucks up the napkin swiftly and glares at them both. “Why don’t you help clean so we can hurry up and eat dinner. Don’t make me count to ten,” he warns. 

With a roll of his eyes, Jongdae grabs a rag and begins to scrub at the tables. “When did you start becoming such a mom, Joonmyun?” 

Meanwhile, Chanyeol’s struggling to refill the salt and pepper shakers. “Which one of you put sugar in the salt shaker at table five?” Chanyeol stares accusingly at Jongdae. “The nice old lady sitting there kept asking about the recipe and insisting that the salt here tastes miraculously sweet.” 

Jongdae shrugs. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”

They finish the rest of their cleaning in relative silence. Minseok makes quick work of putting up extra chairs while Jongin runs under the tables with a mop. Having cleared the tables, everyone else is either busy in the kitchen washing dishes or cooking.

As Chanyeol finishes his job, he watches as Kyungsoo chases everyone out of the kitchen and slams the door shut, muttering about something about Sehun and violation of food safety regulations. “Just sit down,” Kyungsoo orders, “and wait for me to finish making something edible.” 

There’s barely any reaction before the chatter starts up again. Joonmyun is the first to sit down. One by one, the other workers follow and collapse onto the seats with a series of groans and complaints about pain in various body parts. 

As everyone’s squeezing themselves into two booths, Chanyeol wonders idly where he should sit. Just as he takes a step toward where Yixing is (because Yixing is nice and he won’t put condiments in Chanyeol’s drink when he’s not looking), Jongdae appears out of nowhere and shoves at his side. 

“Get in, beanpole,” Jongdae grumbles. “I really need a fucking rest.” 

And Chanyeol probably would’ve gotten in if he hadn’t spotted Baekhyun already seated in the same booth. He makes to walk to the other side of the table, but Jongdae’s not having it. 

“Where are you going?” Jongdae holds onto Chanyeol’s elbow and forces him down.

Chanyeol takes care to leave two inches of space between himself and Baekhyun when he scoots in. Jongdae shoots him an annoyed look. “What’s your problem? Can you please move in further because three-fourths of my right ass cheek is still hanging—“ 

Chanyeol tries to signal with his face that _no, he really doesn’t need to be that close to Baekhyun_. He makes a point of shaking his head subtly. Jongdae appears unamused until something apparently clicks in his mind. His eyebrows shoot up. 

“Oh. Why didn’t you say so?” Jongdae winks extremely obviously. “I understand.” Chanyeol should know that it’s always a bad sign when Jongdae understands something. 

Jongdae presses himself right into Chanyeol. Hard. So hard, in fact, that Chanyeol’s now flush against Baekhyun and he can feel the warmth seeping through his clothes and Baekhyun’s eyes are incredibly close as they blink up at him. 

“Hi,” Chanyeol says conversationally. “I’ll move over a bit. Jongdae’s just being an idiot—“

“Like I said, I don’t mind,” Baekhyun nearly purrs. _What the actual fuck._

Chanyeol feels suddenly way too warm again. 

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.” Baekhyun laughs, eyes crinkled at the corners and no trace of the exaggerated suggestive tone from before. “You’re just really easy to rile up. Has anyone ever told you that?” 

“Can’t say that’s happened,” Chanyeol says. “It’s probably more because you’re great at riling people up.” He’s not sure if he’s disappointed or relieved. _Of course Baekhyun was only joking._ He grins too. 

“Hold up. Since when did the puppy grow claws?” Baekhyun asks in mock surprise.

Jongdae looks over with interest. “I’ve always said you act like a golden retriever.” 

Chanyeol makes an indignant sound. “It was _one time_ that I put a tennis ball in my mouth, Jongdae. You’re the one that dared me, anyway.” The table goes quiet. “I’m hardcore,” he declares awkwardly. 

“I can’t believe that you can listen to rock music and then say shit like that.” Jongdae shakes his head.

“So, tell me about that tennis ball.” Baekhyun raises an eyebrow.

“That was a dark time. You’ll have to stick around to hear it.”

“I’ll be extra sure to stick around, then.” 

Just then, there’s a loud commotion across the table. Yifan’s holding a fancy glass of _orange juice_ , of all things. He attempts to casually prop an elbow on the table with a loud thump. He looks up suddenly over the rim of the cup with a longing stare and proceeds to mumble something inaudible into his cup. 

“You said you were good at this.” Luhan watches apprehensively. “Only the juice can hear you talking. Unless you like flirting with fruit-flavored drinks. In that case, ten out of ten.”

“I said ‘Excuse me,’” Yifan corrects. “And it’s more about the aura than the words. You wouldn’t understand.”

“No? How many girls have you picked up with that line then?”

“None,” Yifan admits. “Yet.”

Everyone’s so loud and Kyungsoo’s still locked in the kitchen, probably poisoning the food, but it’s strangely somewhat nice. It’s good enough for a first day, Chanyeol decides. 

***

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun calls. “Help me out with this?” He’s readying himself to climb on top of a spinning stool in order to reach one of the highest cabinets. To his frustration, he finds that he still can’t get the box of colored shell pasta that Kyungsoo wants.

Chanyeol’s presently lugging sacks of flour into the kitchen of a brand that Sehun specifically requested, claiming that it made the pizza and flatbread taste better. When Chanyeol asked why, Sehun replied haughtily, “You wouldn’t understand. It’s a chef thing.”

It’s too warm, given the heat of the summer sun outside plus the exertion of carrying fifty-pound bags of flour from Yifan’s truck, especially since Yifan insists on parking across the street to stay in the shade. 

“One sec, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol straightens up to stretch and loosen his limbs. 

Fed up with attempting to roll the sleeves of his dress shirt higher and higher, Chanyeol decides to strip off the annoying shirt altogether, leaving him in a thin wife beater underneath. It isn’t doing him much good anyway, plastered to his skin. Chanyeol grimaces. He feels a bit disgusting and not in any way presentable, if he’s honest. He bunches the material into a ball and wipes at the sweat forming at his temple as he makes his way toward Baekhyun. 

Chanyeol gets the feeling that Baekhyun might think differently, however. As soon as he steps in, Chanyeol can feel Baekhyun’s gaze raking appreciatively over his arms, a hundred times more scorching than the sun outside. Heated up and slightly self-conscious from the attention, Chanyeol coughs softly. 

Baekhyun’s eyes snap up to Chanyeol’s face and his mouth turns up in a lopsided smile. He’s completely unabashed to be caught staring while Chanyeol feels himself reddening and he hasn’t even done anything. It’s unfair. 

“Good, you’re here,” he says cheerfully, like he wasn’t tracing the veins threading across Chanyeol’s biceps just then. 

Baekhyun hops off the rotating stool and looks thoughtfully up at Chanyeol instead, and he can practically see the gears turning in Baekhyun’s head. All of a sudden, the breath’s being knocked out of him, soft thighs clutching around his waist and hands grasping none too gently at his shoulders. 

Stumbling blindly for a moment with the weight of a person clinging to him, Chanyeol manages to recover his balance without dropping the boy in his arms. In that process, however, he finds himself much too aware of how close Baekhyun is, trying to catch his breath with his hands settled securely against Baekhyun’s lower back, holding him closer. Chanyeol feels decidedly lightheaded; the thighs around him pressing a little too tight, his own hands a little too dangerously low. 

“Liking the free show, Chanyeol?” Eyebrow raised, Baekhyun looks as composed as ever, if not slightly breathless. 

Eyes wide, Chanyeol feels hot all over. “No!” he protests, “I swear, I’m not trying anything!” In a desperate attempt to get his hands as far from Baekhyun’s backside as possible to prove that _no, he wasn’t liking the show,_ he nearly loses his grip. 

Baekhyun yelps, hands tightening on Chanyeol’s shoulders. After an awkward pause, Baekhyun tsks. “Since you show off those arms of yours so much, I thought you’d be stronger.”

“I wasn’t _showing off_ ,” Chanyeol says defensively. “I could say something about you and your jeans if you want to talk about showing off,” he retorts, ears pink nonetheless. 

Baekhyun grins. “I never said I didn’t enjoy it.” 

He’s settled comfortably now, legs locked around Chanyeol’s waist and this whole scene can get misinterpreted very easily, Chanyeol thinks. 

“And if you think I’m showing off, you must be watching then.” Baekhyun hums through Chanyeol’s ensuing silence. “Not that I blame you, of course.” He wiggles teasingly in Chanyeol’s hold. 

Chanyeol moves toward the counter without warning, earning him another surprised yelp from Baekhyun. Satisfied, he shifts Baekhyun up a little higher so he can finally pick up the box of pasta. Chanyeol really doesn’t get why Kyungsoo has to have that exact box.

When he lets Baekhyun down with a pasta box in hand, Baekhyun drags his fingertips down Chanyeol’s bicep, feather-light. He keeps his eyes locked on Chanyeol’s all the while. 

“Thanks, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun says, and the way Chanyeol’s name slides off his tongue sounds mildly illegal. 

 

Luhan stands behind the counter, watching skeptically when Baekhyun was perched precariously in Chanyeol’s arms. “He knows that Chanyeol can reach that by himself, right?”

Minseok sips his coffee. “He’s a sneaky bastard. Probably wanted to see Chanyeol’s arms up close, with the way he stares.”

***

It’s barely two weeks in when they discover the first chipped dish. It’s bound to happen anyway, with how much they’ve been dropping and clanging the plates. They find it out the hard way when someone cuts their hand on the sharp edge. That person being Baekhyun, unfortunately. 

Baekhyun doesn’t notice anything at first. He pulls his hand back instinctively from the sting and promptly drops the dish with a loud crack. Thankfully, it’s only an empty plate and it breaks evenly into two on the ground. The customers flinch at the initial shock but are decidedly disinterested after Baekhyun bows quickly and assures them it’s nothing.

Meanwhile, Chanyeol opens the kitchen door with his hip, holding multiple drinks. The first thing he notices is Baekhyun sweeping up the broken plate right outside. 

Just then, Baekhyun hisses slightly as he discovers the cut across his palm. He stares for a moment at the thin line of blood seeping from it. “I think I cut my hand,” he says calmly.

“Ouch,” Joonmyun winces. He quickly walks out from behind the counter. “One sec, I’ll grab you a Band-Aid.” 

Immediately, Chanyeol hands his tray off to Jongdae (“I am not your servant, Park Chanyeol,” Jongdae complains) to check on Baekhyun. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Chanyeol asks with worry. 

“No. I think I’m bleeding to my death.” 

Chanyeol frowns and ignores Baekhyun’s sarcasm. “Hey, it looks like it hurts. Is it deep?” 

Without waiting for an answer, he picks up Baekhyun’s injured hand as gently as possible. Baekhyun looks up, more in surprise than anything. 

“Really, Chanyeol, it’s nothing. You’re making the customers nervous,” he says lightly. He doesn’t pull his hand away, though. Chanyeol turns Baekhyun’s palm over to brush over his fingers for any other damage, taking care not to touch the cut. His fingers are delicate looking, pretty and slim with a definitely-not-cute little mole dotting the edge of his thumb. Baekhyun’s hand is much smaller than his own, Chanyeol notes curiously, but his grip is firm when he attempts to squeeze back in reassurance. 

“I take it that you play guitar?” Baekhyun says, eyebrow raised. 

Chanyeol’s eyes light up immediately. “Yeah, actually. How did you find out? Don’t tell me you’re psychic.” 

It’s only when Baekhyun thumbs over Chanyeol’s fingertip that Chanyeol realizes their hands are still touching. It’s irrational that Chanyeol flushes pink at the thought of kind of, sort of holding hands while Baekhyun’s still bleeding, but he does anyway. He pulls back as quickly as he can without hurting Baekhyun. 

“You can think of me as psychic, if you want.” Baekhyun blinks slowly up at him through dark lashes. A tiny smirk curls the edge of his mouth knowingly and _Jesus Christ_ , Chanyeol hopes he’s imagining it. His heart is nearly jumping out of his chest and he needs to take a few steps back from the absolutely criminal way Baekhyun is looking at him right now. 

“But it was obvious from the feel of your fingers.” Baekhyun steps back a bit too, surveying Chanyeol quietly. 

“Oh,” Chanyeol says, and he’s not sure what else to say. 

“It’s not an insult,” Baekhyun says quickly. “I like how rough your hands are.” For once, Baekhyun looks like he’s said something he didn’t mean to say out loud. Chanyeol enjoys this just a little. 

Baekhyun tries to explain himself. “I think it’s cool that you have evidence of playing an instrument. Like, I don’t know, the guitar makes a little imprint on you.” He stares pleadingly at Chanyeol as if begging him to at least pretend he gets it. Baekhyun laughs at himself.

“Sorry, that was stupid.” 

“No, no it wasn’t!” Chanyeol hurries to say. At Baekhyun’s unconvinced look, he adds, “Thanks. For not being grossed out by my hands.”

Just then, Joonmyun finally returns with a whole box of Band-Aids. “Sorry it took so long,” he says, out of breath, “I had to dig through the whole supply closet to find them.” 

After a few moments of relative silence except for Joonmyun’s wheezing, Joonmyun finally realizes that Chanyeol is standing unnecessarily close to Baekhyun. 

He pauses. “Is there…?” he trails off questioningly. 

Not meeting Joonmyun’s eyes, Chanyeol quickly takes the box of bandages from him. “I’ll do it. Thanks, Joonmyun,” he says, probably louder than needed. 

Joonmyun gives him a strange look before heading off. 

Quickly, Chanyeol tapes a large bandage over the cut in Baekhyun’s hand, trying to make as little skin contact as possible. “There,” he declares, wincing internally at how lopsided it looks. 

“I don’t know how I could’ve survived without your care, Doctor Park,” Baekhyun says dryly. Before he heads into the kitchen, though, he gives Chanyeol a real smile, warm and simple. 

Chanyeol’s still lost in thought, looking dumbly in the direction Baekhyun went. 

He barely notices when Sehun stops next to him. “Where were you when Tao broke my toe with his nunchucks, Chanyeol? And I thought we were friends,” he says in disappointment. 

Chanyeol throws a rag at Sehun’s head.

***

Birthdays are nice, Chanyeol thinks. But Baekhyun’s voice is nicer. Viva Polo’s only received a few birthday reservations since its opening, but on the rare occasion that it happens, the staff makes an effort to sing a special rendition of “Happy Birthday” as Kyungsoo brings out the cake. 

Today, they’re singing for a little boy, just eight years old. 

Chanyeol himself stands back, but pauses in his serving to listen. Baekhyun’s done a number of obnoxious impressions and purposefully off-tune covers of Girls’ Generation songs while they prepare in the morning and close up in the evenings, but Chanyeol hasn’t ever heard him really sing. 

When the background track starts, Baekhyun’s voice is easily heard over it, somehow smooth and rough at the same time. It settles in the air, clear, warm, like he’s smiling, and it drags Chanyeol in so easily. The harmonies he pulls with Jongdae complement each other and it has the birthday boy staring back and forth between them in awe.

Chanyeol’s never been particular to the birthday song before, but now he thinks it could be his favorite. 

When they finish in a flurry of applause and cheers from on-looking customers, Jongdae and Kyungsoo get dragged aside by the admiring parents who thank them profusely and shower them in praises. Meanwhile, Chanyeol edges closer to Baekhyun. 

He has to lean a bit closer than normal to be heard over the loud buzz of the restaurant. “Hey, Baek.” Chanyeol tries to sound casual.

“Yeah?” Baekhyun turns and Chanyeol realizes belatedly that they’re standing really close. There’s barely an inch between them and Baekhyun has to tip his head back to look up at Chanyeol, brown irises turned soft amber from the overhead lights. Something in Chanyeol’s stomach flutters even more nervously at seeing Baekhyun’s smile up close. 

“Baekhyun, your voice is…” Chanyeol trails off, searching for the words. “Really nice,” he finishes. He has to add, “Really, really nice,” because he’s not sure Baekhyun gets it.

Baekhyun’s voice is more than nice, really, because it’s bright and mellow when he pulls a falsetto but so, so wickedly warm when he drops to a low rasp – but somehow, it seems too much and not enough at the same time for Chanyeol to say aloud.

“Thanks,” Baekhyun says, “You think so?” He sounds pleased, more pleased than when people compliment his looks or his outfit. 

“Definitely,” Chanyeol replies immediately. The tips of his ears redden and he hopes he doesn’t come off too eager. If he does, Baekhyun says nothing about it. “Have you ever taken lessons?” 

“I’m a music major at the Seoul Institute of Arts,” Baekhyun says, amused. “I’m kind of obligated to take lessons, training to be a vocalist and all.”

Chanyeol shakes his head. “Wow. Do you plan on being an idol? Or just…” Chanyeol makes some vague gestures, “Any singer?”

“It doesn’t really matter to me. I just want people to hear me. And enjoy it, hopefully.” 

Chanyeol frowns. He reaches out to – well, he doesn’t know what he means to do, but Baekhyun moves suddenly and he finds himself brushing Baekhyun’s hand instead. Startled, he jolts back and manages to piece together a sentence. 

“Not ‘hopefully,’ Chanyeol insists, more forcefully than he intends and it seems to surprise Baekhyun too. “Your vocal tone, your control—You sound…” he starts to say, and then he’s struggling to find words. “I would be your fan,” he blurts out a little too honestly. He’s already a fan. 

Baekhyun doesn’t compose himself as quickly as he normally does. He first breaks out in his usual slow smirk but can’t seem to keep from somehow crumbling a little further. It’s clear in his grin, less purposefully charming and more tentative but Chanyeol thinks that when his eyes crinkle in the corners, it’s even better. 

He’s not sure if it’s just the angle but from where he’s standing, it almost looks like faint pink tinges Baekhyun’s cheeks. Chanyeol swears his heart squeezes even tighter.

“You know anything about music?” Baekhyun asks suddenly. “It sounds like you’re experienced.”

“Yeah, actually. I’m in Seoul Arts for music comp and production,” he says. “But I play a few instruments.” Chanyeol half-smiles. “So I can appreciate an instrument like your voice, naturally.” 

_Fuck._ Chanyeol freezes and all the blood rushes to his face because he _didn’t just say that_. 

Baekhyun seems startled, but laughs anyway. “You’re turning the tables on me, aren’t you?” He tsks. “You act like an embarrassed puppy but you’re really a smooth talker.”

Chanyeol reddens even more. 

“Well, show me what you can play sometime. I’ve got a thing for musicians.” Baekhyun gives him a cheeky grin and pats the side of Chanyeol’s face.

***

Chanyeol tells himself that it’s not for Baekhyun when he lugs his guitar case to Viva Polo a week later. And it’s _definitely_ not because he keeps repeating the way Baekhyun says “ _I’ve got a thing for musicians_ ” in his head. 

***

It’s late. Chanyeol lets the rest of the workers go home a bit earlier than usual, hoping no one noticed the black case hiding in the supply closet. (Jongdae doesn’t leave easily. He keeps wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and looking purposefully in Baekhyun’s direction.)

Baekhyun’s still here. “Ready to serenade me, Chanyeol?” He hops up on the stool near the counter, legs swinging and eyes sparkling as he watches Chanyeol take out his guitar. 

Chanyeol takes care as he props the instrument delicately across his lap and begins to tune it. “Don’t have high expectations,” he warns. “I’m not a professional like you, Mister Future Idol.”

Baekhyun sticks his tongue out. “I reserve judgement until I actually hear you play.”  
He waits quietly for another minute while Chanyeol plucks experimentally through the strings before piping up again. 

“Does it have a name?” Baekhyun’s mostly teasing, gesturing to the guitar.

“It’s a he, actually,” Chanyeol retorts. “And his name is Louis William Suga Adams Junior. The third.”

There’s a terrible moment where Chanyeol thinks Baekhyun just might walk away. 

Baekhyun buckles over instead and laughs so hard he nearly cries. “That,” he says, “is what I’m naming my first born child.”

 

When they compose themselves, Chanyeol finally starts plucking out the first bars of Radiohead’s “Creep.” The notes sound twangy in the silence and Chanyeol isn’t really sure when he hears the sound of his own voice. He’s isn’t vocally trained. His voice is deep enough, Chanyeol knows that, and he puts whatever he has into the lyrics and following the simple tune that he’s played so many times before. It’s different this time, though.

Baekhyun’s watching with dark, attentive eyes and Chanyeol can’t focus on remembering English words when Baekhyun looks at him like that.

Something leaps in his chest when Baekhyun says, sounding slightly awed, “I could fall asleep to your voice.”

Needless to say, Chanyeol’s ears heat up. 

It’s not until the second chorus that it happens, but Chanyeol is grateful when Baekhyun joins him. 

Their voices fill the air and Chanyeol feels like his whole body is buzzing and everything is hazy but he’s not drunk. Not off of alcohol, at least, but he could be drunk off the sound of Baekhyun.

 _The lyrics aren’t true, though,_ Chanyeol wants to say. Not when Baekhyun sings them. Because Baekhyun’s not the creep; if anything, Chanyeol might be a creep and Baekhyun’s fucking special. 

Baekhyun dips into his lower register, the subtly husky tone just enough to send a shiver down Chanyeol’s spine. Languidly, Baekhyun leans back against the counter, eyes half-lidded and melody falling lightly from his lips. For all of Baekhyun’s obnoxious impressions and purposefully off-tune covers of Girls’ Generation, the real sound of him is quiet, made of low, lazy hums and breathy falsetto.

Chanyeol thinks it’s a bit unfair the way Baekhyun sings. It starts from the heave in his chest as he breathes, the tremble in the long column of his throat, the entrancing shape of his mouth pressing around syllables as they escape into the air. 

He can’t really bring himself to look at Baekhyun straight on like this when he can already feel the heat in the tips of his ears. So he keeps strumming the guitar.

 

Chanyeol’s not sure what’s happening, but his fingers seem to realize it first. They stumble on the strings, missing notes in a chord. He clears his throat over the sound. Baekhyun doesn’t stop humming, but there’s an amused smile in his voice. The second time, he misses the beat completely, dropping a handful of notes. Chanyeol is too aware of the blush probably spreading through his face. _Goddamn it._

He feels it. Baekhyun’s stare, just a bit too heavy to be a simple glance. The singing stops.

Chanyeol gives up on trying to play. From the corner of his eye, he sees Baekhyun slide off his stool. Slightly alarmed, Chanyeol shuffles back, clutching his guitar.

“Need some help?” Baekhyun gives him his signature grin, soft and easy, curling his lips, but something distinctly predatory glints off his sharp canines.

He inches closer. “Distracted, hm?” Baekhyun’s voice is different now. Somehow darker, but still warm. _Too warm, in fact,_ Chanyeol thinks. He’s almost whispering, tone lingering dangerously close to seductive.

“Uh—“ Chanyeol knocks over his own chair. He scrambles to pick it up. “Sorry, Baek. I’ve got to go. Lots of things to do. Reorganizing my fridge. Writing a grocery list. The works.” He waves apologetically as he nearly runs out the front door, leaving Baekhyun staring after him.

***

Chanyeol’s determined to fix the mess he made last week when he walked out on Baekhyun and left him alone with Father Louis William Suga Adams Junior the third. God, he feels awful for it. 

When he sees Baekhyun come in at the beginning of the lunch shift, Chanyeol immediately seizes the opportunity to apologize. “Baekhyun, I don’t know what was wrong with me. I’m sorry. I swear, it’s not that I don’t like you or anything—“ Jongdae snorts from the side, “—I just panicked for some reason and please, I’ll do whatever you want to make up for it.” He gets it all out in a single breath and looks imploringly at Baekhyun, who remains worryingly impassive. 

After a long silence, Baekhyun asks, “Whatever I want?” 

Chanyeol thinks he could’ve chosen better words, especially with the devious look that’s made its way onto Baekhyun’s face. He nods fervently anyway.

“Play for me again,” Baekhyun says simply.

“That’s what you want?” Chanyeol sounds incredulous.

“Do you have a problem?”

“No, of course not,” Chanyeol quickly amends himself. 

The tension dissolves quickly when Chanyeol spots the little upwards curve to Baekhyun’s lips. Without thinking, Chanyeol throws his arms around Baekhyun to pull him in until they’re pressed flush against each other and Baekhyun’s face is buried in the crook of Chanyeol’s neck. He forgets about their proximity for a moment out of pure relief that Baekhyun isn’t actually mad. 

“You’re not forgiven yet, asshole.” Baekhyun tries to keep a sour expression and ultimately fails.

Chanyeol grins broadly. “But I’m _your_ asshole.” He pauses. “That didn’t come out right.”

Joonmyun looks extremely puzzled as he passes by. 

“Wait.” Baekhyun speaks quietly now, serious enough that Chanyeol has to look back in surprise. He sighs a little in frustration and runs a hand through his hair and okay, Chanyeol is a little nervous now. “Honestly, I’m the one that should be sorry. I shouldn’t have made you uncomfortable.” 

“No, Baek—“

Baekhyun waves him off lightly. “You don’t have to explain yourself.” 

There’s an awkward silence. Chanyeol doesn’t know how to tell him that it wasn’t uncomfortable, more that it was so easy to be too comfortable around Baekhyun. 

“Do you want to come by my apartment tonight? Not that I’m propositioning you or anything—because I absolutely respect you,” Chanyeol rambles instead, “But for music. I left my instruments there.” 

Baekhyun raises an eyebrow. “Just for music, huh?”

Chanyeol flushes. 

“Count me in.”

***

“Whoa.” Baekhyun’s look of fascination is so genuine that Chanyeol has to laugh. He throws Chanyeol a dirty look. “Shut up, okay. I’m never seen so much fancy equipment before.”

They’re finally in Chanyeol’s apartment after a long day of work and honestly, Chanyeol thought that Baekhyun forgot until he spotted Baekhyun waiting alone for him to lock up. Currently, Baekhyun’s still standing at the bedroom door, staring at the multiple monitors set up on his desk, the MIDI keyboard controller he keeps nearby, along with a whole mess of wires and other unnamable tools.

“It’s not really fancy.” Chanyeol fights his grin. “It’s pretty basic studio stuff that I’ve picked up over the years. The sound quality’s not great either, because I haven’t fixed the acoustics of the room at all.”

Baekhyun nudges him in the side. “You really sound like a professional talking.”

“Only because you know less than I do about music production.”

“Hey!” Baekhyun says, affronted. “Well,” he amends a moment later, “That’s true. Why don’t you educate me then?”

Chanyeol’s in the middle of a long-winded explanation on the different types of mics used in recording and the sound effect each has when he realizes how attentively Baekhyun’s listening, leaned forward and catching on to every word. It’s almost unbelievable how interested Baekhyun is because let’s face it; most people don’t enjoy hearing Chanyeol ramble about his love for studio equipment. 

Chanyeol stops then. “I don’t want to be a bore…” he trails off. “And you didn’t come for this anyway,” he says. “Want to play some music instead?”

“You’re not a bore,” Baekhyun argues vehemently with more sincerity than Chanyeol expects. After a pause, he sees that Chanyeol isn’t about to resume talking about his microphones. “Alright,” he concedes, “Let’s play.”

As soon as Chanyeol leads them to his living room where various instruments are haphazardly propped up on stands and tabletops, Baekhyun lights up at the sight of his electric keyboard. Chanyeol doesn’t know what he expected, honestly, because Baekhyun’s hands are really meant for piano. 

Baekhyun fits his hands lightly over the black and white keys. His fingers are perfectly poised, flitting across the smooth surface like a figure skater on ice, pulling out a simple yet delicate melody that leaves Chanyeol only slightly mesmerized. 

“You know how to play?” Chanyeol asks in mild surprise.

“Only a little.” Baekhyun shrugs as he turns to face Chanyeol. “I played for a year or two because my teacher convinced me that girls liked it.” 

“Right.”

“Of course, I dropped the classes after finding out that I’m not interested in girls and it wasn’t much use.” Baekhyun looks up steadily at Chanyeol for a reaction. 

_Oh_. “That’s cool.” Chanyeol nods so hard he thinks he could be one of those bobblehead toys that people put in their cars. “That’s totally fine.” Baekhyun only raises an eyebrow, unconvinced.

“And it’s not that the lessons weren’t any use. I mean, I’m interested.” Chanyeol nearly trips as he backs up. “Uh—I’m interested in your skills. That’s what I meant to say.” He laughs nervously. 

The hint of a smile begins tugging at Baekhyun’s mouth. “Just play guitar for me like you promised,” is all he says.

Chanyeol is all too happy to comply.

***

This becomes something of a routine: Chanyeol nags Baekhyun about his current choice of ripped jeans just in case he’ll start to listen. Baekhyun refuses. Repeat. Chanyeol won’t admit it out loud, but he asks mostly just to hear Baekhyun reply. Most of the time, Baekhyun’s answer either makes him laugh or tingle with embarrassment. Chanyeol supposes he’s a masochist. 

“Baekhyun—“

Baekhyun swivels around. “It’s that time of day again, isn’t it.”

Chanyeol refuses to back down. “Have you ever considered wearing holeless pants? I think it would fit the aesthetic of the restaurant more.” 

“What aesthetic?” Baekhyun raises an eyebrow. “Sehun’s the one who helped decorate the place.”

Chanyeol starts to argue back but he’s cut off almost right away.

“You know, I’m starting to think you’re obsessed with my choice in pants.” Baekhyun narrows his eyes. “Why, does this distract you?” he asks. He strikes a dramatic pose, mimicking an idol singer with the way he bites his lip and catches his fingers in the rips in the fabric along his thigh. Baekhyun can’t help the grin threatening to break his character.

It’s meant to be funny. It _is_ funny, so Chanyeol doesn’t know why his throat is so dry. He squeaks instead and ducks out, muttering excuses.

***

“Rilakkuma fan, huh?” Baekhyun says with amusement as he takes in the collection of assorted plushies splayed across Chanyeol’s room. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice them last time.”

“Hey, I get lonely sometimes,” Chanyeol defends. 

Baekhyun holds up his hands in surrender. “I’m more of a Korilakkuma fan myself.”

Chanyeol snorts because _of course Baekhyun would_. 

“But these remind me of you.” Baekhyun pokes one of them in the nose and fiddles with its little arms. “You know, all soft and squishy and big-eared.” 

“I refuse to be shamed for my huge ears.”

Baekhyun looks up with a wide grin. “I know. I think it’s cute.” He bounces the bear in his lap idly while Chanyeol goes silent and faintly red. 

They end up watching _Star Wars: A New Hope_ instead of playing music because Chanyeol finds out that Baekhyun knows nearly nothing about the saga and it’s an incredible disservice to Baekhyun that he’s never been exposed to the cultural awakening of Star Wars. 

Sometime after the start of the movie when they’re sitting on Chanyeol’s lumpy couch in the cramped living area, Baekhyun rests his head on Chanyeol’s shoulder. He stays like that, not moving too close or saying anything else of it.

It’s only after Princess Leia gets rescued that Chanyeol realizes Baekhyun is much quieter than normal. Too quiet, in fact. Chanyeol moves to check Baekhyun in a sudden panic only to find that Baekhyun’s fallen asleep, breathing evenly and nose scrunching every once in a while. He nearly laughs out loud at himself. 

It takes only a minute before Chanyeol decides what to do. He lifts Baekhyun up as gingerly as possible, slipping one arm around his back and the other hooking under his knees until he’s cradled against Chanyeol’s chest. It’s a struggle even with how petite Baekhyun is, and Chanyeol groans inwardly at the dead weight. Luckily, Baekhyun shuffles closer, clutching to him as Chanyeol maneuvers around the various instruments strewn on the floor and pushes the door to his bedroom open with his foot. 

When Chanyeol tries to let go, Baekhyun makes a little noise of discontent instead, whining softly and pressing his nose into Chanyeol’s neck. It’s like putting a child to bed, with Baekhyun clinging like an oversized koala until Chanyeol finally manages to coax his hands off with soft encouragements. 

“Stay,” Baekhyun murmurs, eyebrows creasing when he subconsciously realizes that Chanyeol’s not holding him anymore. 

Chanyeol’s startled, looking at Baekhyun’s hand wrapped loosely around his own wrist and feeling a sudden warmth at the sight. Baekhyun is apparently exceedingly affectionate when he’s tired, and Chanyeol isn’t nearly as averse to it as he should be.

He picks up the same Rilakkuma bear that Baekhyun was playing with earlier and tucks it against Baekhyun’s chest. He nuzzles against the soft fur, curling his arms protectively over the bear to hug it closer. Immediately, Baekhyun’s features relax with a sigh of satisfaction and a small smile lingers on his lips.

“I’m here,” Chanyeol whispers back softly even though he’s sure Baekhyun can’t hear him. He refuses to coo at the way Baekhyun sleeps with the plushie, free of the trace of eyeliner he usually wears and so utterly innocent with his hair fluffed up in a dark halo against the pillow. There’s no other explanation for the fluttering in Chanyeol’s chest, but he chalks it up to the fact that he’s deliriously exhausted as he makes his way to the couch in the living room.

***

Over the course of a month and a half, the initial rush of customers for the grand opening lessened to a more manageable crowd. Some days were slow, especially as the lunch shift was finishing. Today is one of those days.

“Oops.” Jongdae smacks right into Chanyeol as he hurries past with a pitcher of cold water. “Sorry,” Jongdae says sheepishly. 

Chanyeol waves him off. “It’s fine, I’ll just go clean up. Can you get Tao to cover my tables for a minute?” 

He moves under the counter to grab a towel when he realizes that Jongdae hasn’t moved. Chanyeol raises an eyebrow. “Can I help you with something?”

“Nope. Just stay right there.” The devious grin on Jongdae’s face grows. He promptly dumps about half the remaining water in the pitcher down Chanyeol’s front as Chanyeol stays frozen in shock. It’s _cold_. “Oh my, whatever will I do?” Jongdae says very unconvincingly.

Chanyeol closes his eyes. “Jongdae, I swear—“

“Baekhyun! There you are,” Jongdae exclaims. He drags over a confused-looking Baekhyun by the wrist. “Here, I’ll take your tray.”

Chanyeol finds himself promptly shoved into the kitchen with Baekhyun. 

“Clean him up, won’t you?” Jongdae winks before the door is slammed in their faces. 

There’s more than a few seconds of silence before Baekhyun starts laughing. “Damn, you’re really dripping.”

Chanyeol half-expects Baekhyun to leave him like this. He wouldn’t be offended anyway, because what really is there to say about this? But Baekhyun moves forward instead, close enough that Chanyeol’s startled by his proximity. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, panicked. 

“Undoing your shirt. What does it look like I’m doing?” 

Chanyeol watches as Baekhyun’s hands make quick work of his buttons, and _God_ , his fingers are pretty. He’s almost too distracted to feel embarrassed. It’s not like Baekhyun’s trying to look anyway, gaze steady on Chanyeol’s face. But Baekhyun’s also not speaking anymore, and it’s more than intimidating.

Baekhyun tries to peel the wet shirt off, but it keeps sticking to Chanyeol. He wonders absently what he did to deserve this kind of torture, skin tingling where Baekhyun’s fingertips make even the briefest contact. 

Chanyeol would be lying if he said he wasn’t affected. Baekhyun’s hands feel warm pressed against him, touch unbearably gentle as he uses a towel to dab Chanyeol dry. And _holy shit_ , Baekhyun has his pink, pink, lower lip caught between his teeth, eyes flicking up curiously from beneath his lashes, probably from hearing Chanyeol’s sudden hitch in breath. He’s not even trying, and it’s doing terrible, terrible things to Chanyeol’s heartrate. He swallows hard. 

Chanyeol only snaps from his daze when he registers someone speaking from behind. 

“Oh,” the voice says. “ _Oh_ ,” it repeats, much louder in comprehension. “What the hell. Jongin, you’ve got to see this. I can’t believe Chanyeol, out of all fucking people, is getting rubbed up on.”

“And in the kitchen too, you kinky little shits,” Sehun says, almost in awe. 

Chanyeol begins to explain why his shirt is wet and very transparent and why Baekhyun is here but Jongdae flings the door open to join in. 

“Well, you know what they say.” He wags a finger. 

“I don’t know what they say,” Chanyeol says and immediately regrets it.

“If you can’t handle the heat, don’t do it in the kitchen. Or something.” 

“Or something,” Chanyeol says. “Definitely or something.” 

***

“Let’s play a game.” Jongdae smacks his hands on the table during their lunch break. Chanyeol’s settled in to the restaurant routine by now, but he ponders the fact that he can never get used to Jongdae. 

“Here’s how it’s going to go. Get as many customers to give you their number as possible. Do whatever you want, whisper to the orange juice if that’s what works for you.” His eyes glint. “So who’s in?” 

Sehun shoots a questioning glance at Jongin. 

“Go ahead. Just as long as you don’t actually call them.” Jongin shrugs.

Yixing furrows his brows. “You’re okay with watching Sehun flirt with other people?”  
Sehun slips a hand around Jongin’s waist subtly. No one misses the way Jongin pulls him closer. 

“Yeah. It’s not like I call anyone else daddy,” Sehun answers casually for his boyfriend. 

Joonmyun looks utterly scandalized. “Yixing, please don’t ask next time.”

Meanwhile, Luhan joins them. “Might as well give it a try before I get too old to have fun.” 

“You’re going to be a senior in college. Not a senior citizen,” Kyungsoo says dryly.

Just then, Baekhyun cuts in. 

“I hope you all know you’ve lost already.” He surveys everyone lazily. The crazy thing (or maybe not so crazy) for Chanyeol is that it’s actually easy to see Baekhyun winning this. From a completely objective standpoint, it’s in the way Baekhyun walks sometimes, downright predatory, and the heaviness in his gaze that makes Chanyeol swallow and look away.

“Please, the only number you can get is Chanyeol’s,” Jongdae scoffs. 

Baekhyun smiles serenely. “Just watch me.”

After Baekhyun walks away, Chanyeol immediately opens his mouth to argue. “Don’t lie,” Jongdae smirks, “Your red ears gave you away ages ago.” 

***

Jongdae might not be watching, but Chanyeol is.

Chanyeol finds himself looking over at Baekhyun while he’s taking orders. It doesn’t work like this. He doesn’t get distracted on the job, and he doesn’t let his classic toothpaste smile (as Jongdae would call it) slip off. 

It doesn’t make sense, because it’s not like Chanyeol has any right to Baekhyun. In fact, Baekhyun probably still thinks that he makes Chanyeol uncomfortable when he gets too close. 

So Chanyeol tries not to watch the way a pretty brunette sneaks her hand up Baekhyun’s wrist or how an innocent blonde blushes easily at Baekhyun’s charming smile. At some point or another, all of them look at Baekhyun in a certain way. Hungry, some of them, eyes roving over his jaw and his slender neck or the exposed hints of smooth skin through the rips in his skintight jeans, but it’s not like Chanyeol’s never been guilty of doing the same.

Except they’re the right kind of people for Baekhyun, because every one of them is attractive and interesting and Chanyeol is—well, he’s kind of clumsy and names his instruments weird things. 

When Baekhyun makes eye contact with Chanyeol from a few tables away, Chanyeol still smiles and flashes a thumbs-up.

It’s not like Chanyeol is affected or anything. He grins at the customers when he greets them; he purposefully smacks Jongdae with an empty tray as he passes; he laughs when Yifan tries out his unconventional flirting tactics. 

But it’s not really the same as much as Chanyeol tries to convince himself it is. Baekhyun doesn’t rest his head casually on Chanyeol’s shoulder when they both have a break and whenever Chanyeol turns, he expects Baekhyun’s sharp retort which never comes. _It’s good to get used to it now_ , he tells himself optimistically. _For when Baekhyun really dates someone._

What Chanyeol doesn’t notice is that Baekhyun is watching him too, even while the girls leave him their numbers.

 

As soon as the last customer leaves, Baekhyun orders everyone to gather around the counter. He fishes around in the pocket of his apron and dumps out a handful of napkins and receipts. Each paper slip has a phone number scrawled across it, usually accompanied by a winky face and a name. He looks over triumphantly at Jongdae. 

“Respect, man.” Jongdae shakes his head in awe. “I can’t believe all those girls were willing to get with you and you stick with this…” Jongdae scrunches his nose at Chanyeol, “tall drink of something.”

Baekhyun laughs. 

Chanyeol avoids eye contact and looks down at the counter instead.

His eyes land on the curlicued signatures of Minhees and Jias and Seoyeons but it’s when he sees a napkin signed by a Jihoon that his heart stops a little and maybe it wouldn’t be completely hopeless if Baekhyun wasn’t so easy liked by everyone, if he couldn’t get anyone he wanted. Which is clearly not the case. He’s aware of Jongdae watching his reaction and looking uncharacteristically solemn all at once.

 

When Chanyeol’s left alone with Jongdae, he sidles up to Chanyeol and begins to speak. 

“Chanyeol, you can be pretty stupid,” Jongdae states seriously. “But Baekhyun would be infinitely stupider to ignore you.” 

Chanyeol looks up in surprise and readies himself to respond.

Just then, Jongdae takes a step back and squints at Chanyeol’s face. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re a total catch, but you’re something, definitely. Maybe an octopus.”

Chanyeol swats at Jongdae’s head but predictably, Jongdae ducks. He pops up again; smug grin fixed as he slings an arm around Chanyeol. 

“I would thank you,” Chanyeol says, “but I’m not sure any of that was a compliment.”

“Hey, that was all from the bottom of my heart.” Jongdae frowns. “Anyway,” he adds lowly, “If he turns out to be a prick, I wouldn’t mind kicking Byun’s perky ass for you.” 

Chanyeol knows that Jongdae’s not usually the type to get sappy or do much other than fire insults at him. The gesture makes him feel a little lighter. He grins back teasingly. “I knew you cared about me.” 

Jongdae punches Chanyeol’s arm. “None of this happened.” 

***

Sehun has a tiny crayon in his hand, and he’s doing one of the puzzles on the kids’ menu. It’s late and Sehun usually never stays at the restaurant later than he needs to be, claiming that he would be missing out on “beauty sleep with Jongin,” whatever that means. But it somehow makes sense that the one time he stays late, he’s staying to finish children’s puzzles. 

He calls Chanyeol over from where he’s balanced cross-legged atop a stool. 

“Yeol,” he says, “This is your life.” He stabs the crayon forcefully at something on the page. What seems to be there is a cartoonish representation of spaghetti with the strands arranged artfully in some sort of maze activity. 

“My life is a maze,” Chanyeol deadpans.

“Right. You’re not as dense as I thought.”

Sehun continues, “Each spaghetti path takes you somewhere different. This one leads you to…” He furrows his brows in concentration. “Nothing,” he concludes finally.

“What I got from that is that my life leads to nothing.”

Chanyeol is pointedly ignored. “There’s the meatball.” Sehun points, like Chanyeol can’t be trusted to recognize a meatball for himself. “That’s Baekhyun.”

At this point, when it’s around midnight and comparisons are being made between Baekhyun and two-dimensional meatballs, Chanyeol thinks it’s the right time to start walking in the other direction. 

Sehun whines in discontent and raises his voice instead to make sure that Chanyeol hears him. “Chanyeol, you can’t give up. You’ve got to try all the tangly spaghetti paths because at least then you’ll have a chance to get somewhere. Like in a bed. With Baekhyun.”

Chanyeol immediately wheels around, already flushing at the imagery. He figures that Sehun really doesn’t need to know that maybe Baekhyun’s already been in his bed, but in the most platonic way possible. He pinches Sehun’s arm in retaliation. “That’s not helpful.” 

“Okay, okay.” Sehun latches onto Chanyeol before he can leave. “I’m just saying that I’ve got faith in you, man. I always knew Baekhyun liked them weird.” He pats Chanyeol’s back.

Conspiratorially, Sehun motions for Chanyeol to move in closer to him. “Just so you know, he stares back at you sometimes. Think he’s got a thing for your arms.” Sehun sniffs haughtily. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

***

Chanyeol’s not really sure what he’s trying to accomplish here. He supposes he should have seen this coming before taking Sehun’s life advice.

He offers to make dinner for the staff instead of Kyungsoo for once (“Finally,” Kyungsoo grumbles). All Chanyeol knows is that the type of pasta he uses is crucial and this is the one time that he can’t find what he’s looking for. 

Of all people, Baekhyun’s the one helping him search the cabinets. 

Chanyeol decides _screw it_ since they’re the only ones in the supply room and no one else will hear if this goes down incredibly badly. Which it probably will. 

So Chanyeol begins, speaking to Baekhyun’s back.

“Is your hair pasta?”

“Romeo compared Juliet to the sun. You’re comparing my hair to pasta.” Baekhyun stops rummaging and looks up at Chanyeol from where he’s kneeled on the ground.

Chanyeol tries hard to ignore the implications of that.

“You’re supposed to say yes, Baekhyun.” 

“Yes, then. My hair absolutely looks like sticks of uncooked dough.” 

“You must be an angel, then.” Chanyeol clears his throat. “You know, angel hair pasta.”

Baekhyun aims a slap at Chanyeol’s leg, which is eye level to his sitting position. “Negative one out of ten. You’re better off taking lessons from Yifan on how to pick people up.” 

Chanyeol immediately replies defensively. But Baekhyun’s not really mad and he looks more like he’s trying to keep himself from laughing, so maybe it isn’t so bad to listen to Sehun once in a while.

***

“I just want to try cooking for once,” Baekhyun insists. 

“Baekhyun,” Joonmyun says kindly, “You’re a sleep-deprived, procrastinating college student. Being unable to cook is expected.”

“Please don’t. No one wants to have food poisoning,” Tao adds. When Joonmyun fixes a glare on him, Tao lifts his palms in surrender. “Hey, you were thinking it too.”

“Why don’t you ask Chanyeol instead?” Joonmyun suggests. “He’s the one cooking tonight. Maybe he’ll let you help?”

Baekhyun brightens immediately. “Thanks, Joonmyun!” he says cheerfully before heading off to the kitchen. 

Minseok looks up from his phone then to address the rest of the employees sitting around the table. “You know that there’s no way Chanyeol’s going to say no, right?” 

Luhan snorts. “Of course. He’s so whipped.”

Joonmyun nudges him. “Like you should be talking.”

“Okay,” Luhan allows, “But at least I’m not dancing around my feelings like some mating ritual of sexual tension like those two are.” As if to prove a point, he stands up to peck Minseok on the cheek and Minseok responds by automatically slipping an arm around his waist.

“There should be a new sign in this restaurant that says ‘No PDA allowed,’” Jongdae says with a scrunch of his nose.

 

Inside the kitchen, Chanyeol’s putting up a decent fight against Baekhyun’s pout. He feels himself slipping little by little as Baekhyun continues pleading with him. 

“Please, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun’s saying. “You’ll get to help me and I promise I’ll try not to burn anything.”

“What a deal,” Chanyeol deadpans. He’s focusing on the draining the boiled pasta instead because he knows he’ll get soft if Baekhyun does the thing with his eyes where he looks like a kicked puppy. When Baekhyun fiddles with the knobs on the stove and watches the blue flames under the pot with fascination, Chanyeol tries to shoo him away. 

“Baekhyun, you’ll hurt yourself,” he says, but it seems more like Chanyeol’s the one pleading with Baekhyun now.

“Protect me then, my chef in shining armor.” 

As Chanyeol sighs in defeat, Baekhyun bounces excitedly. “Knew you’d come around.” 

A moment later, Baekhyun appears in Chanyeol’s view, much closer than before and peering up, eyes crinkled into crescents as he smiles. “Thanks, Yeol,” he says sincerely before pursing his lips and sending Chanyeol an air kiss. 

Embarrassed, Chanyeol looks away. “Don’t mention it. Like actually, don’t mention it. Jongdae will never let me hear the end of it if he hears that I gave in to you.”

“Why?” Baekhyun sounds suddenly keen. 

“No reason,” Chanyeol says a little too quickly and his ears go a little pink. It sounds very suspiciously like he has lots of reasons, but Baekhyun doesn’t press further. Chanyeol dumps the pasta (which is farfalle, since they never actually managed to find the angel hair) unceremoniously into a saucepan. 

Chanyeol clears his throat to break the silence. “There’s tomato sauce heating over here,” he points to a second pan beside him, “and you can add the spices, if you want? That’s the fun part. For me, anyway.” 

Baekhyun zeroes in on the entire row of spices on the counter and gathers almost all the little bottles in front of him. He manages to unscrew the shaker top from the chili pepper flakes and dump in an inhumane amount before Chanyeol snatches the bottle from him and holds it protectively to his chest. 

“Kyungsoo would kill you,” Chanyeol says, scandalized. “Do you have any experience with cooking at all?”

“Not really,” Baekhyun admits, looking only slightly abashed. “Help me?” 

“Just hold the spatula and stir—“ 

Baekhyun interrupts. “Can you show me instead?” 

Chanyeol starts toward the stove and looks confusedly at Baekhyun when he doesn’t move aside. “I can’t show you if you’re standing there, Baek.”

“I meant for you to hold my hand through it. Literally,” Baekhyun says playfully. “Unless you mind.” There’s a question in his tone and Chanyeol doesn’t know how to answer.

Chanyeol fits his own much larger hand over Baekhyun’s on the spatula handle instead of speaking. Baekhyun’s surprised. Chanyeol can tell from the way he jolts at his touch, but Chanyeol likes to think it’s a good kind of surprised and that Baekhyun just might be pressing his hand slightly back against his.

Belatedly, Chanyeol realizes that their position might be a bit compromising. In order to help Baekhyun like this, his chest is brushing Baekhyun’s back, warm breath dancing across the slope of his neck (and Chanyeol doesn’t miss the little shiver Baekhyun gives). Most of all, Baekhyun’s hip is already fitted snugly against him, either by accident or by design. Either way, a sharp spark of something warm starts down Chanyeol’s spine. 

He swallows thickly. “Here. You can add some spices—just one shake of each,” he clarifies quickly, just in case Baekhyun dumps in a whole container of basil or something similarly disastrous but Baekhyun seems distracted for once. “I’ll help you stir.” 

Chanyeol feels a little silly if he’s honest, like they’re re-enacting a scene from one of those dramas Jongdae denies watching. All thought of that goes out the window when Baekhyun leans back almost imperceptibly to rest against his chest. 

Chanyeol’s heart thuds wildly and he hopes Baekhyun can’t feel the nervous fluttering through his shirt. If he does notice, Baekhyun doesn’t mention it. He doesn’t tease or laugh, and there’s just Baekhyun’s seeping warmth and strands of his dark hair tickling Chanyeol’s chin until Chanyeol’s heart rate slows to normal again. It’s natural, almost too natural. They say nothing, just standing together and stirring for a while.

When the cooking timer beeps, loud and grating, Chanyeol detaches himself to move back and Baekhyun lets him. 

“I’ll pour it on,” Baekhyun announces over Chanyeol’s protests, and suddenly everything is back to normal. 

Baekhyun tosses the farfalle efficiently, tipping the saucepan and turning over the pasta with the spatula. Within minutes, he’s finished. 

“Want a taste?” Baekhyun blows carefully on a forkful of pasta before lifting it to Chanyeol’s mouth. 

The second Chanyeol swallows, suddenly everything seems to make sense. 

_Farfalle._ Even with Chanyeol’s extremely limited Italian (and he means extremely limited, considering that he only knows the names of pasta and the word _Ciao_ , which he reserves for times when he gets tired of saying hello in Korean), he knows that _farfalle_ means butterflies. 

And now he has farfalle in his stomach. _Literally._ It shouldn’t be as funny as it is, but Chanyeol nearly chokes on his pasta as he laughs out loud at how stupid everything is and how definitely not cute Baekhyun looks even when he’s confused. 

It takes another second for Chanyeol to consider that maybe Baekhyun’s got farfalle in his stomach too, and maybe not just the literal kind. 

 

It’s not until after they serve the food to everyone else that Chanyeol suspects Baekhyun isn’t nearly as bad of a cook as he says he is. He doesn’t want to get ahead of himself on what that might mean, but he can’t stop grinning stupidly to himself anyway.

***

“I’m genie for you, boy!” Baekhyun declares back at Chanyeol’s apartment, flailing his limbs in an awful imitation of Girls’ Generation’s famous leg dance. He throws in an awful cheesy wink too.

“I can do better,” Chanyeol scoffs. 

Baekhyun pretends to be offended. “I’ll have you know, my senior superlative was ‘legs most like SNSD’s.’”

Chanyeol laughs. 

It’s been weeks now since the first time Baekhyun came over, and it’s almost scary how easily they’ve fallen into this routine. He doesn’t doubt that Baekhyun’s so familiar with his apartment that he could probably name all his Rilakkuma plushies. Now’s a good time as any for Chanyeol to show Baekhyun his self-composed song. It’s not like Baekhyun knows that Chanyeol made it thinking of him, so there’s no harm, right?

So he does, beckoning Baekhyun over to his desk and fitting the headphones over his ears. Chanyeol clicks on the track, which reads “untitled” with his heart slightly racing before he can change his mind. 

Baekhyun props his head up on his hands, look of mischief turning to one of utter concentration with furrowed brows and lower lip sticking out. He listens, staring so hard at the screen until Chanyeol thinks it might shatter with the intensity of his gaze. 

“Sounds like you’re writing from experience,” Baekhyun says as he tugs off the headphones. He stares right at Chanyeol and it’s like he _knows._ Chanyeol’s heart nearly stops.

“Yeah,” he manages, “Just someone that’s been on my mind recently.” He wills for Baekhyun to understand and not to understand all at once. 

Baekhyun looks away first, a strange look on his face. Disappointment? “It’s late. I should probably go.” He gets up from his seat and makes it halfway to the door. It is late, but that’s never stopped him before. 

“Where do you even live?” Chanyeol asks, maybe just to buy a few minutes because his head is spinning and he has no idea what just went wrong. 

“On campus,” Baekhyun gestures vaguely. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He gives Chanyeol a small smile. 

“Wait.” Baekhyun does wait, looking expectant. “Stay?” Chanyeol tries. “I know campus is pretty far and it’s not a good idea to walk all the way there alone at one in the morning.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s not the first time I’ve walked back.”

“Baek, please. I’m sorry? I don’t know, just don’t leave right now.”

Baekhyun runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But you’re upset.” Chanyeol steps toward him imploringly. “Aren’t you?”

Suddenly, it’s like all the fight drains out of Baekhyun. “No. I’m not upset at you.” He lets himself be tugged closer by Chanyeol, sighing quietly against his shoulder. “I’ll stay, since you asked so nicely.” The beginnings of dry humor start again in his voice and Chanyeol stops holding his breath.

“So it’s a sleepover?”

“I guess it is.” 

Chanyeol pushes Baekhyun away. “If you’re going to be sleeping here, you better take a shower.” He wrinkles his nose. “You’re all sweaty and gross.”

“You don’t exactly smell like rainbows and sunshine either.” Baekhyun swats him back, grin forming on his face. “Besides, I don’t have any of my shower stuff or a change of clothes. I told you, I should go back.”

“Don’t,” Chanyeol whines, holding on to Baekhyun’s waist. “You can use my soap and stuff? I’ll even lend you clothes.” He stands back a bit. “They’ll be a little big on you, though.”

“I’m washing up first, then,” Baekhyun relents. “Thanks, Yeol,” he whispers quietly before he’s back to smiling widely and bounding toward the bathroom. “Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone.” 

When Baekhyun returns, his hair is damp, fluffed and standing up from his head from rubbing at it with a towel. He looks like a puppy, Chanyeol thinks, especially with his sharp little canines peeking out. It was the understatement of the century to say that his clothes would be a ‘little big’ on Baekhyun—his frame is nearly swamped in one of Chanyeol’s old rock band shirts, the hem of his pajama pants covering his feet. 

When Baekhyun gets closer, Chanyeol is hit with the clean, faintly spicy scent of his sandalwood body wash. It’s dizzying that Baekhyun smells like _him_ , but it’s even more startling that Chanyeol really, really likes the sound of that. 

Baekhyun’s tired, eyes droopy and mouth pouted as he rubs his eyes with his fists. 

“Don’t get up,” he tells Chanyeol grumpily. Baekhyun collapses onto the bed despite Chanyeol’s protests, grabbing a handful of his shirt and burrowing into his chest with a sound of contentment. 

Chanyeol freezes. This is dangerous territory, very dangerous to have Baekhyun so close with his hands on Chanyeol like that, even though it’s probably completely platonic on Baekhyun’s part. But Baekhyun is soft and warm and willingly pressing into Chanyeol’s arms, so he thinks he can allow himself to have this moment.

Chanyeol closes his eyes, only meaning to wait until Baekhyun falls asleep. He ends up falling asleep too, with Baekhyun tracing his heartbeat through his shirt.

***

Sometimes people have bad days. Chanyeol gets it. It just kind of sucks when customers suddenly decide that Chanyeol is the reason for their bad day and take it out on him like angry children on a Chanyeol-shaped piñata. 

He tries not to let it bother him, though. Chanyeol just smiles through his teeth and reminds himself that the customer is always right. Chanyeol’s used to it, but Baekhyun is apparently not. 

Chanyeol’s just finished apologizing profusely to a middle-aged woman with long red nails and an overdone perm who demands that he serve the rest of the dishes quickly, muttering under her breath about the no-good teenage dropouts these days. When he hurries back from the kitchen with three plates balanced on one arm, she orders Chanyeol to remain standing in front of her until she tries the food. 

She makes her distaste quite obvious by spitting out the bite of chicken and flinging the dish back into a stunned Chanyeol’s hands.

Baekhyun’s been listening in quietly for a while but at this, he mutters a quick apology to his customers and drops his tray unceremoniously on a counter. He sets a determined gaze on the woman and marches straight towards her.

“Ma’am,” Baekhyun says so politely the woman does a double-take, “I apologize if Viva Polo is not to up to your standards. You’re welcome to take yourself somewhere better. I just hope you don’t speak to their employees like they’re trash—it’s generally looked down upon in civilized society, see.” 

He smiles sweetly. Chanyeol can see that Baekhyun’s hands are balled into tight fists.

Snapping out of his shock, Chanyeol pulls Baekhyun aside. “What are you doing?” he hisses frantically. A good number of customers are listening in now, wide-eyed or at least putting their forks down to watch the commotion.

“Making sure you don’t get stepped on, you idiot,” Baekhyun snaps loudly. “You, you absolute fucking sweetheart, have no idea how to tell people no.” He gestures toward the fuming woman still sitting in the booth.

She promptly snatches up her purse and storms out. 

Chanyeol pulls in a deep breath. “Baekhyun, can we talk for a second?” He nods at the kitchen doors. 

 

The doors barely close behind them before Chanyeol speaks. 

“You shouldn’t have done that.” He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” Baekhyun challenges. “I hate when people like her take advantage of people like you.”

Chanyeol doesn’t have anything to say to that, so he stays quiet for a moment.

“Baekhyun, just please calm down. She’s not worth it.”

“That’s the first correct thing you’ve said all day.” Baekhyun grabs Chanyeol’s arm to fix him with a stare like he’s desperate for Chanyeol to understand. “She isn’t worth it. You’re too good for that.”

Wide-eyed, Chanyeol pulls out of Baekhyun’s grip. “I’m glad I have you around. My overprotective knight in shining armor,” he tries to joke to lighten the mood. 

Baekhyun scoffs at him. “Damn right you should be glad.”

“It really was fine though, Baekhyun. I can save myself next time.”

“ _Fine_?!” Baekhyun stares at him like he’s popped a second head. “Chanyeol, there is nothing about this situation that you could describe using the word ‘fine.’”

“Well, there’s you,” Chanyeol says, trying to keep his voice as light as possible. 

“What?”

“You said there’s nothing I could describe as fine in this situation. But, uh, you’re here?” Chanyeol ducks his head to hide the way he peeks to gauge Baekhyun’s reaction. 

“And so, your argument is invalid,” Chanyeol goes on. 

Baekhyun stops his constant pacing around the room to blink uncomprehendingly instead. He looks almost flustered and not nearly as fired up anymore, if Chanyeol can believe it. 

***

After the first time Jongdae suggested it, it’s been a running game to collect customers’ phone numbers and tally their points on their order pads. Besides Baekhyun, Luhan and Minseok are also often slipped notes during their shifts. In fact, Minseok seems to have a small fan club following that meets at Viva Polo every so often. 

Chanyeol hasn’t really wondered how many admirers Baekhyun gets now. He hasn’t been announcing his point tally lately and to be honest, Chanyeol tries to avoid the thought as much as possible.

But tonight, while he gripes to Jongin about the water in the trash can (“Sorry,” Jongin shrugs, “I just meant to dump out a pot of overcooked noodles,”) he notices a few crumpled slips of paper that were tossed out, blurry ink words written on them, half-covered by discarded pasta. 

Chanyeol bends to get a closer look. He registers two things: one of the notes is directly addressed to Baekhyun, and all of them have numbers written on them. 

He stands over the trash can for a few minutes longer, wondering if this means anything. 

***

It’s actually not Jongdae’s fault this time. Not entirely his fault, anyway. There’s apparently a restaurant-wide conspiracy going on that Chanyeol wasn’t aware of. Jongdae suggested that they “help” Chanyeol out a bit by getting him this apron, but it was ultimately Joonmyun who paid for the thing. (“It’s custom made,” Joonmyun said proudly, “So you better use it.”) 

Chanyeol doesn’t understand how an apron is supposed to help until he sees the thing. There’s no way in hell he’s actually using it.

But at least it’s comfortable. 

***  
Chanyeol’s stuck wearing the stupid apron. 

Under any other circumstances, he’d think someone was pulling some strings, but he’d seen Kyungsoo at the end of his shift yesterday, and the cook had been stuffy-nosed and especially irritable. Predictably, Kyungsoo decided to stay home today. 

It’s not a surprise that Sehun and Jongin are doing God knows what out back. Chanyeol’s heard multiple questionable thumping noises and accompanying groans that he really hopes are out of pain. 

Naturally, Chanyeol fills their role in the kitchen to prepare the last customers’ dishes for the night, though not without entertaining the idea of smacking both Sehun and Jongin with a length of boiled spaghetti when they get back.

Problem is, there aren’t any spare aprons on hand. Jongdae sends Chanyeol the biggest shit-eating smile when Chanyeol sucks down all self-respect and asks him where his goddamn apron is.

 

Chanyeol knows he’s screwed when Baekhyun bursts into the kitchen. It takes barely a moment for his eyes to land on the apron and read the bright bubble letters framing a pair of embroidered red lips on the front. 

Baekhyun looks up. “’Kiss the cook,’ huh?” he asks, an impish grin starting at the corner of his mouth. Chanyeol idly wonders whether everyone’s lips are that pink or if it’s just Baekhyun. 

He’s not sure whether Baekhyun’s words or his own thoughts catch him more off guard. In any case, Chanyeol promptly drops the spatula he’d been using to stir the penne, which clangs off the stove and very nearly falls to the floor, though he’s somehow able to catch it with his flailing limbs. He balances the spatula safely on a clean plate before turning down the flame and facing Baekhyun.

“Yup,” Chanyeol pops the ‘p.’ He lowers his gaze to the apron tied around his waist in distaste. “It was a gift. Kind of,” he explains. 

He’s not even sure how to interpret Baekhyun’s little smile anymore. It’s a little secretive and he’s a little bit close and the whole situation is just somehow _different_ from how they usually joke around. Staring at Chanyeol’s face, Baekhyun looks a little contemplative instead. 

“Is that an invitation?” Baekhyun teases, but it sounds too serious, his gaze open and heavy at the same time. He tilts his head innocently. 

_It’s a joke, it’s just a joke it must be a joke_ , Chanyeol reminds himself and he bites hard on the inside of his cheek because he feels like he might do something stupid if he doesn’t. Chanyeol can feel the warmth radiating from Baekhyun’s body and there’s the tiniest mole at the corner of his lip ( _Christ_ , he’s so pouty) and Chanyeol’s stomach swoops when he wonders how Baekhyun might react if he just leaned in a little closer. 

Chanyeol forces a laugh that sounds borderline hysterical. “What are you talking about? Of course not,” Chanyeol says, only because he’s physically unable to manage anything else.

Baekhyun stares for just a beat longer before starting toward Chanyeol, probably to take the dishes from him. Chanyeol, for some reason, is beyond tense and jumps up to fling the kitchen doors open.

“I’ve got it! You can just, uh,” Chanyeol waves his free hand frantically, “chill out with the pasta here. I’ll just deliver this personally. Good customer service and all. I’ll see you in a bit!” He peeks out of the corner of his eye to see that Baekhyun is standing still, and for some reason, he can’t shake the unsettling feeling that Baekhyun’s disappointed. 

***

Chanyeol’s left alone with Baekhyun to clean up. He’s sure it isn’t a coincidence, but for once, he’s grateful for the opportunity.

He doesn’t have his guitar (ahem, Louis William Suga Adams Junior the third) with him this time. He doesn’t have an excuse to not talk to Baekhyun either. 

It’s especially frustrating because Baekhyun is uncharacteristically reserved tonight. Ever since Chanyeol ran out of the kitchen earlier, he’d been like this. If it were anyone else, Chanyeol might think Baekhyun was offput by his impromptu exit, but it’s happened with Baekhyun more times than Chanyeol would like to admit. And it’s not that Baekhyun’s _ignoring_ Chanyeol. But he might as well be, because he keeps answering Chanyeol’s rambling with faint smiles instead of some sharp retort or even a cocksure smirk. 

Chanyeol knows that they’ve long since finished cleaning up and Baekhyun is just pretending to be immersed in the salt and pepper shakers. He knows because he’s also pretending to wipe down the counter although he doesn’t even have a rag. 

He closes his eyes, breathes in deeply and counts to ten. 

When Chanyeol opens his eyes, he forces his legs to walk straight toward Baekhyun. When he finds himself directly in front of Baekhyun, he thinks he can really just say it and get it over with. 

Baekhyun looks up. 

_Closer_ , Chanyeol urges himself. 

“Do you have something to say to me?” Baekhyun asks, and it’s only mildly mocking. 

“Yeah.” Chanyeol clears his throat. Everything gets stuck. “Uh, how’s the weather?” 

“Let me check.” Baekhyun turns his head to look out the window. “Specialists say that tonight’s forecast includes darkness.”

Chanyeol hears the slightest hitch in Baekhyun’s breath. They’re so close, chests nearly touching as they inhale and Chanyeol’s heart nearly stops. He’s sure that Baekhyun’s eyes just flickered briefly downwards to land on his lips and Baekhyun immediately looks away like he’s guilty. They both know that even the most miniscule action is impossible to miss at this proximity.

“Chanyeol, I—“ 

Chanyeol doesn’t let him finish his sentence. His pulse is roaring in his ears, mind nearly blanking, but he leans forward the last few inches to fit his lips against Baekhyun’s. It’s so light that their mouths barely touch but Chanyeol thinks he hears a sigh the moment they connect and he’s not sure whose it is but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care, because Baekhyun feels perfectly soft beneath him and there’s a fluttering like an anxious bird in his stomach. 

It’s short, innocent, and Baekhyun doesn’t know what to think except that it’s so completely Chanyeol—clumsy and anxious and holding his jaw carefully and so, so soft that it’s sweet. 

As soon as it ends, Chanyeol opens his eyes to find Baekhyun looking back at him, wearing a stunned expression.

And _oh God_ , what if he just offended Baekhyun and it wasn’t really like this at all and Chanyeol can’t even read road signs properly so what in the world made him think he could read Baekhyun and Baekhyun’s _not responding_. 

“Oh fuck. I mean, excuse me,” Chanyeol says hysterically, “I just screwed everything up, didn’t I?”

Baekhyun just stands there for a moment but Chanyeol doesn’t notice how he’s slightly dazed and how he raises one hand halfway up almost as if to touch his mouth in surprise before catching himself.

Chanyeol’s halfway into his apology before Baekhyun finally finds his voice again.

“You know, for the longest time, I thought I was pushing it too far.” Baekhyun speaks quietly and he looks elsewhere, fixed on a stain on the tabletop, maybe. “You keep running out on me, but you still always come back and I wasn’t sure if it was because you’re just too damn nice to tell me no.” 

He finally locks gazes with Chanyeol, and he’s unwavering. “It’s not, is it?” His voice shakes the slightest bit and he sounds so unsure that Chanyeol wants badly to take that unsureness away. “Tell me now. Please,” he adds. 

Chanyeol’s heart constricts at Baekhyun’s hopeful look, hammering against his chest and this is wrong, because _he’s_ the one without a chance here, not Baekhyun. As soon as Baekhyun finishes speaking, he jumps to answer. 

“Absolutely not, Baekhyun, I could never—I think I really, really like you.” Chanyeol swallows hard, but he feels inexplicably light now that it’s out there. 

Baekhyun is unbearably silent for a second. “You’re an idiot,” he states bluntly. 

It throws Chanyeol for a loop. He stares back uncomprehendingly, something in his chest sinking, because sure, Baekhyun can be blunt and sarcastic and he jokes at the most inopportune of times, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t say something like this now, would he? Chanyeol realizes suddenly that he’s not sure. Being with Baekhyun is unpredictable in itself, like stepping blindfolded off a platform, but for the first time, he has no idea what he’s stepping into. 

Chanyeol’s already running through all the possible ways he can salvage the situation when Baekhyun interrupts his thoughts.

“That makes me an idiot too, I guess.” Baekhyun gives him a secretive little smile. His posture slowly slackens and it’s only then that Chanyeol realizes he’s not the only one who’s anxious. 

Chanyeol’s never been more relieved, not even when Jongdae held his head underwater once and refused to let him up, though the feeling of being able to breathe again is the same. Without second thought, he reaches forward and pulls Baekhyun to his chest, resting his chin atop Baekhyun’s head. He smells sweet, faintly like strawberries. 

Wildly, Chanyeol thinks he could get used to this, to having Baekhyun against him like this, face buried in Chanyeol’s neck, lips ghosting at his pulse and arms possessively around his waist. It’s overwhelming, with all his senses suddenly filled with Baekhyun, Baekhyun, _Baekhyun_. 

“God, I honestly thought I would never get to hold you like this.”

It’s so awfully cliché but so awfully true that Chanyeol mentally swears he’ll never judge romance novelists again. He glances at the ground as he says it even though Baekhyun can’t possibly see his face right now. 

“Shut up. Don’t say that ever again. Who else would hold me like a giant teddy bear if you weren’t here?” Baekhyun squeezes tighter around Chanyeol before lifting his head. The gesture makes Chanyeol’s reply stick in his throat. 

Baekhyun’s eyes are shiny under the restaurant lights, and Chanyeol’s stomach flips at the strangely wonderstruck look. When Baekhyun speaks again, his voice sounds low and decidedly strained. “I really want to kiss you right now. Can I?” he breathes, like he’s afraid to speak any louder. Their faces are so, so close.

The strange plummeting feeling is back, like he’s falling, though this time it’s a pleasant kind of fall.

Chanyeol does stop, eyes wide. 

He barely manages to nod before Baekhyun grips his shoulder with one hand and cups Chanyeol’s cheek with the other, thumb stroking circles into the skin. Chanyeol catches a glimpse of Baekhyun’s gaze, impossibly molten and then the world tips on its axis. Baekhyun kisses fiercely, relentlessly, like all he needs is the air from Chanyeol’s lungs and _Christ_ it’s hot, the way he keeps pressing closer like he can’t get enough. 

Chanyeol is so dazed that he barely comprehends when Baekhyun flips them around, pushing Chanyeol against table six. And _oh_ , Chanyeol ‘s stomach swoops at the wolfish grin Baekhyun shoots him, looking the slightest bit ruined in the best way with strands of dark hair falling into his eyes, sharp canines glinting, mouth already swollen a pretty red. Baekhyun surges forward again, latching on to Chanyeol’s bottom lip, teeth lightly scraping until Chanyeol gasps into his mouth.

Baekhyun’s hands are everywhere, slender fingers tracing the stuttering beat of Chanyeol’s heart over his chest, tangling in his dark hair, desperate just to touch. Chanyeol lets his own hands slip down to the curve of Baekhyun’s waist to hold him steady, gripping tight to the jut of his hips as Baekhyun presses open-mouthed kisses down the column of Chanyeol’s neck. Baekhyun sucks hard until Chanyeol chants his name and he’s sure pretty purple bruises will stain the skin there tomorrow. 

Chanyeol grips a little tighter and when Baekhyun rocks against him, whimpering against his jaw and shivering against him, it’s so, so good. Baekhyun returns to his lips and all Chanyeol can taste is Baekhyun on his tongue, heady, like adrenaline and sweetness and it makes his head spin.

Chanyeol finally finds the strength to pull away, and he thinks it might be the hardest thing he’s ever done. Especially since Baekhyun is whining low in his throat, soft and touchable and wrapped all around him. 

“Baekhyun, _ah_ , maybe we should slow down,” he says breathlessly. 

Baekhyun pouts before conceding. “You’re right,” he sighs. “Any more and I probably wouldn’t be able to stop myself.” The way he bites his lip is positively illegal and he looks at Chanyeol like he’ll devour him whole. Baekhyun definitely knows what he’s doing, if the teasing smirk is anything to go by.

Chanyeol almost makes himself look away before he reminds himself that he doesn’t have to anymore. 

“Baekhyun, are we dating? Or boyfriends, or something?” he asks hesitantly. 

“Do you what to be?” Baekhyun shoots back. There’s something hopeful in his voice too.

“Maybe.”

“Then yes.” Chanyeol can’t help beaming at Baekhyun. 

“One more kiss?” Baekhyun grins up at Chanyeol, arms already snaking around his neck. Already, there’s no way Chanyeol can refuse him. 

***

“You didn’t do anything on the tables, did you?” Minseok asks curiously, and it’s the first thing out of anyone’s mouth when Chanyeol steps into Viva Polo in the morning. 

Chanyeol blinks. “What do you mean?” In retrospect, he should’ve known something was up from the quietness of the restaurant and the cluster of employees around a single table.

Jongdae appears all of a sudden, cuffing a bewildered Chanyeol. “Aw, don’t be shy, Chanyeol,” Jongdae says in his smarmiest voice. “I’m actually a little hurt that you didn’t tell me yourself and I had to find out through Yixing.”

“What does Yixing have to do with anything?” 

Everyone looks expectantly at Chanyeol. When Chanyeol still doesn’t get it, Jongdae lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Just admit it, man. You were totally sucking face with Baek yesterday after we all left.”

 _Oh._ Chanyeol flushes. “How do you even know about that?” 

Jongdae has the wickedest grin on. “See, Yixing forgot something here yesterday night. He came back to get it and our innocent Xingie saw you two at it and then forgot why he even came back. The way I see it, you owe him an apology.” 

Joonmyun pipes in. “Chanyeol, I’m going to have to clean all the tabletops again. There are sanitation standards that we have to meet,” he scolds, looking scandalized. 

“But we didn’t do anything—“

Luhan raises an eyebrow. “It sure looked like you were doing a hell of a lot of something.” He snatches up someone’s phone and waves the screen at Chanyeol. 

Sure enough, there’s a picture of two figures, blurred slightly by motion, but it’s clear from the storefront that they’re in Viva Polo. Chanyeol suddenly recognizes that it’s precisely the moment when Baekhyun pressed him against the table and the memory makes his face heat up more. 

“Chanyeol! I’m sorry,” Yixing says worriedly, “I took a picture because I thought you and Baekhyun looked cute together. You just moved so fast that I didn’t get the moment I was expecting.” He frowns down at his phone. 

Chanyeol rubs at his forehead. “Don’t worry about it, Yixing.” 

At that precise moment, the door chimes as Baekhyun walks in. He looks the same as ever, wearing his usual attire and sauntering over with a hand in his pocket and no idea of what’s going on. Chanyeol’s not sure why he’s suddenly so nervous as Baekhyun approaches, but he thought that something would be different. He’s caught between feeling relieved and even more anxious, seeing that nothing’s changed at all. 

“Hey, Baek,” Jongdae says conversationally. “How good of a kisser is Chanyeol?”

Baekhyun doesn’t flinch. He slips his hand into Chanyeol’s and lifts himself onto his tippy toes to give him a kiss as way of greeting. It’s brief, barely more than a press of their mouths, but Baekhyun makes a show of pulling away. 

“Pretty good, actually,” he replies. Baekhyun smirks at Jongdae’s shocked expression. 

***

It’s not really a surprise when Baekhyun corners him after hours one day. Their kisses have gotten increasingly more frequent. During the first two weeks, Chanyeol would place a kiss atop Baekhyun’s head or on the tip of his nose before starting a shift and Baekhyun would respond by moving close, staring up with dark eyes promising more. Recently, Baekhyun had taken to dragging Chanyeol out in the middle of shifts when business was slow. It started off innocent enough, sometimes just escaping for fresh air, one time just lying in the grass next to each other.

That same day, Baekhyun had gotten a little fixated on Chanyeol’s lips while they were blowing the fluff off dandelions. He always made it obvious, eyes half-lidded, own mouth parted. Suffice to say, Baekhyun tossed the dandelion over his shoulder and crawled into Chanyeol’s lap, arms looped around his neck before melting eagerly into him, all sweet sighs and little gasps. 

There were times that they got a little rougher, too. Just earlier today, Baekhyun had Chanyeol pressed against the back wall of Viva Polo in the dark. Baekhyun was scorching and unforgiving, lips hot and messy on Chanyeol’s skin. Chanyeol had fought back, peppering a trail of brief kisses down Baekhyun’s neck, which he found was one of his most sensitive spots, until Baekhyun arched into him, shuddering and pliant and even more breathless than before. 

Tonight, everyone else has left except Baekhyun. At dinner, Chanyeol unfortunately got caught in the midst of a food fight between Sehun and Luhan and was pelted by meatballs launched from spoon catapults. His shirt was stained, needless to say. He’d just finished scrubbing out the worst of the tomato sauce. Thankfully, Chanyeol always keeps a change of clothes at Viva Polo in case something happens and he’s relieved to wear something not sticky. 

Baekhyun’s waiting for him when Chanyeol steps out of the bathroom, leaned against the counter and eyes raking appreciatively down Chanyeol’s frame. Baekhyun gets this look of barely-veiled hunger sometimes and it makes Chanyeol’s lungs stutter at the sheer intensity of it. 

There’s no hesitation before Baekhyun saunters closer, hand smoothing at Chanyeol’s worn Nirvana shirt and lips tracing the shell of Chanyeol’s ear. 

“You look good,” Baekhyun murmurs. It’s the tone that does it, all smoked-out and raspy, Chanyeol thinks dizzily. Byun Baekhyun is dangerous like this. He could ask anything of Chanyeol right now and he’d do it.

“I could say the same for you.” Baekhyun looks faintly pleased at Chanyeol’s words. And it’s true. Baekhyun does look devastatingly good. Baekhyun’s still in his work attire, thin fabric of his shirt framing broad shoulders and the tapered curve of his waist. His jeans are practically plastered to his skin, taut over the swell of his ass and highlighting the fullness of his thighs and strips of exposed skin absolutely tantalizing. Chanyeol knows how those thighs feel under his palms, curvy and smooth and the thought of Baekhyun touching him at all sends a thrill down his spine. 

Baekhyun studies him, pad of his thumb swiping softly over Chanyeol’s bottom lip before he launches forward. Their mouths slot together, Baekhyun nipping and pulling lightly with his teeth while Chanyeol kisses back languidly, letting Baekhyun press into him. _God_ , the noises Baekhyun makes, drawn-out whimpers as Chanyeol laps against his skin. 

Breathless, Baekhyun breaks away long enough to shove Chanyeol down into a chair. Chanyeol tugs him forward, closer and closer until Baekhyun’s settled comfortably in Chanyeol’s lap, knees splayed on either side of Chanyeol’s thighs. 

This time, Baekhyun leaves barely a millimeter between their lips but doesn’t close the last bit of distance. Instead, he stills and breathes harshly against the corner of Chanyeol’s mouth, dark eyes trained on Chanyeol as if watching carefully for a reaction. 

Baekhyun presses his hips into Chanyeol’s almost experimentally. The pressure, though brief and light, sends heat thrumming through Chanyeol, and if Baekhyun’s quiet gasp is any indication, he feels the same. 

“Is this okay?” Baekhyun asks, voice barely more than a whisper. 

Chanyeol nods fervently. “Yes, _God_ , yes.” His own voice has dipped an octave lower than usual and he sounds on the verge of a moan but Chanyeol can’t find it in him to be embarrassed, not with Baekhyun’s eyes immediately darkening at his reaction.

Still, a smirk plays at the edge of Baekhyun’s red, red lips. “God’s not here. Just me,” he says, but he abruptly cuts off into a sharp hiss, eyes fluttering closed when Chanyeol rolls his hips up unexpectedly. 

Chanyeol’s hands continue to map out Baekhyun’s skin, hooking under his shirt to run up his sides and to splay large, rough palms on the soft dip of his waist before dipping lower to cup the curve of Baekhyun’s ass, palming against the supple flesh and guiding Baekhyun’s slow grinding. It’s positively filthy, the way Baekhyun rocks himself against Chanyeol’s thigh or Chanyeol’s own erection and the pretty, high-strung noises that fall from his lips, but it’s so, so _hot_. 

There’s something about knowing that Baekhyun is this wrecked because of Chanyeol, that even through the layers of their jeans, Chanyeol can feel Baekhyun, hard and aching. The mere thought sends him reeling and barely able to suppress a moan, especially as Baekhyun ruts down again, torturously slow and deliberate. The friction is delicious, enough to light Chanyeol’s skin on fire, and _fuck_ , he could come just like this.

At this point, Baekhyun’s eyes are swirling pools of ink and a feverish flush stains his cheeks. He’s perfect like this, Chanyeol thinks in awe. 

“Touch me, Chanyeol.” Just the words themselves and the way Baekhyun begs, entire body shivering in Chanyeol’s hold, it winds the coil of heat in Chanyeol’s stomach even tighter. “Please?” His breath hitches at the end. Baekhyun sounds raw, yet almost teasing, daring Chanyeol even like this. 

“I promise I’ll be good for you.” Baekhyun leans in to drag his lips down Chanyeol’s neck, sucking a mark into the skin there. 

“You don’t — _ah_ —have to convince me, Baek,” Chanyeol says through pants. 

He moves his hand from Baekhyun’s waist and slides it tentatively lower, lower, lower, tracing the sharp dip of his hips until Chanyeol’s palming Baekhyun’s dick through his jeans. Immediately, Baekhyun shudders uncontrollably at the contact, head falling forward onto Chanyeol’s shoulder to muffle an obscenely loud whimper and if he wasn’t already half on Chanyeol’s lap, his knees would’ve surely buckled. 

“Good?” Chanyeol asks anyway, throat dry from just watching Baekhyun. 

“Yes,” Baekhyun gasps, “yes yes _yes_.” He arches into Chanyeol’s hand with each chant, desperately seeking more pressure. Chanyeol gives it to him, stroking roughly against the swollen outline of his cock, reducing Baekhyun to a mess of moans, fingertips scraping down Chanyeol’s back.

“ _Chanyeol_ ,” Baekhyun breathes raggedly, syllables long and drawn out but it sparks _want_ in Chanyeol and he wants to hear it again, wants to make Baekhyun say his name like that again. “Chanyeol, _fuck_ , slow down.” Chanyeol pulls away immediately. 

“Did I hurt you?” Chanyeol asks in worry. 

Baekhyun has to suppress a whine at the loss of Chanyeol’s touch. Taking a moment to recover slightly, he says, “Absolutely not, you sweetheart.” Baekhyun punctuates his statement with a light kiss to Chanyeol’s mouth. “ _God_ , I’d love to have you continue, but that would end everything too quickly.” He smiles wryly. “And I still want to have some fun with you,” Baekhyun purrs.

The implications in that statement send a jolt of heat through Chanyeol so strong that he has to shut his eyes for a moment to compose himself. He wonders idly what he did in a past life to deserve Baekhyun. He hears Baekhyun laughing throatily overhead. 

Baekhyun’s lithe fingers move to the button of Chanyeol’s jeans and Chanyeol’s eyes fly open then. Baekhyun stills, looking up as if asking for permission. Chanyeol nods only because he doesn’t trust his voice, watching as Baekhyun makes quick work of the zipper and pulls the acid-washed fabric just low enough for his purposes. Chanyeol has to sigh at the faint relief when he’s released from the tight confines of his jeans, but now, the aching of his cock is even clearer and he needs something, _anything_ , to soothe the pure _need_ in the pit of his stomach. 

The wickedest grin fits on Baekhyun’s mouth as he tilts his head, openly admiring the shape of Chanyeol’s dick straining through the thin material of his briefs. When Chanyeol notices, he makes an embarrassed noise at the back of his throat, shifting to somehow divert Baekhyun’s attention. 

Instead, Baekhyun slides off Chanyeol’s lap onto the floor. He traces his fingertips up from the tear at Chanyeol’s knee slowly until he reaches his inner thigh, eyes locked on Chanyeol’s all the while. Baekhyun presses gently, urging until Chanyeol’s thighs are parted almost indecently wide for him to fit in between. 

Chanyeol can hear Baekhyun swallow hard, as if saliva gathered in his mouth at the sight, and he thumbs circles over the fabric tugged taut across the tip of Chanyeol’s cock where pooling precome soaked through, darkening the material. Chanyeol’s hips lurch forward of their own accord, chasing Baekhyun’s touch, and groaning in disappointment when Baekhyun pulls away playfully. It’s maddening, yet so, so good wherever Baekhyun puts his pretty hands.

“Please, Baek, don’t tease. I don’t think I can take it if you tease any more,” Chanyeol rasps out.

Chanyeol holds his breath when Baekhyun takes pity on him, tugging impatiently at his underwear. Even the drag of fabric as it catches on his skin feels amplified with how impossibly turned on Chanyeol is right now. He has to look away when his own cock bounces up toward his stomach, swollen dark pink and throbbing. Baekhyun seems to have no problem staring though, reaching forward to cradle Chanyeol’s length gently in his palm. 

“You’ll be a treat, that’s for sure,” Baekhyun murmurs, more to himself than anything, but bizarrely, it still makes Chanyeol flush. 

Baekhyun’s fingertips skitter feather-light on Chanyeol’s overheated skin, tracing a thick vein and circling the crown and Chanyeol thinks he’ll lose his mind when Baekhyun finally, finally wraps his delicate hands around him and strokes _hard_ , the slide made easy by the precome weeping from the tip of his cock. 

Chanyeol’s still reeling and panting hard when Baekhyun gets a sudden mischievous look. Baekhyun lowers his head until he’s so close that his hot breath ghosts over Chanyeol’s length, alluring dark eyes innocent as he blinks up from beneath his lashes to make sure Chanyeol is watching, and _hell,_ his dick twitches just from watching. Baekhyun smirks ever so slightly at the action. 

Just then, Baekhyun leans forward to place a soft kiss on the slit, just the slightest pressure from pouty pink lips that has a thin string of precome lingering on his Cupid’s bow, but the imagery is enough to have Chanyeol trembling. Baekhyun grins in satisfaction, but it’s obvious from his blown pupils and harsh breathing that he’s just as affected. 

“So sensitive,” Baekhyun coos, watching Chanyeol’s blush darken. He doesn’t miss the way Chanyeol’s cock is straining at the air, with his hips subtly pressing upwards in search of friction. Baekhyun wets his lips before deciding to pounce. 

Gripping Chanyeol around the base (and _oh_ , his fingers look even prettier around Chanyeol’s dick), Baekhyun laps kittenishly at the head, licking into the slit. _Christ,_ Chanyeol can’t help the choked noise he lets out, thighs shaking and he feels Baekhyun smile against him. Baekhyun fits his mouth over the throbbing tip then, the flat of his tongue rubbing at the sensitive underside until Chanyeol hisses in pleasure, hand coming up to fist in Baekhyun’s hair. Just as Baekhyun begins suckling in earnest, Chanyeol cups his chin, tugging him gently yet insistently off his cock. 

Baekhyun whines, lips shiny with saliva and precome. “What’s the matter?”

Chanyeol has trouble answering through ragged breaths. “Baek, I’m not giving you any attention. I want you to feel good too.”

Baekhyun shushes him impatiently and tells him, “Watch me.” Baekhyun presses the heel of his palm down onto the prominent bulge in his jeans, positively keening, sounding almost musical with his eyes half lidded and lower lip bitten as he gazes back at Chanyeol. 

“It does something for me, Chanyeol,” he says, “I could get off from doing this, from the pretty sounds you make. So let me suck you off, hm?” 

_Oh._ Chanyeol is dumbfounded. Baekhyun takes the opportunity to latch back on to Chanyeol’s length, this time holding tight to Chanyeol’s hips as he sucks eagerly, swallowing around the girth of his cock so his throat contracts, squeezing tight and so impossibly good, all velvet-soft and slick, wet heat. Baekhyun devours him, lips stretched obscenely around Chanyeol’s thickness, hand pumping whatever he can’t fit. 

The pleasure is dizzying, clouding everything except his senses and Chanyeol can’t help the way he cants forward off the chair into Baekhyun’s mouth. Immediately, he starts to apologize but stops short when he catches the look on Baekhyun’s face. Baekhyun looks fucked out, eyelids fluttered shut and wetness sticking to his lashes, breathing harshly through his nose, but he’s _moaning_ like he enjoys it, the vibrations of his voice delicious as they travel up Chanyeol’s length. 

Baekhyun hums purposefully now, the feeling incredible and even more intense than before and it has Chanyeol’s head falling back with a litany of Baekhyun’s name. 

Baekhyun pulls away for a moment, lips still parted and spots of bright color high in his cheeks as he palms at himself, hips bucking into his own hand. “Come for me, Chanyeol,” he urges, voice rough. 

Baekhyun digs his fingers so hard into Chanyeol’s hips that it’ll surely bruise as he sucks Chanyeol down again, hungrily, messily, saliva slicking his wrecked, swollen mouth, the lewd sounds filling the air perversely hot. The pressure around his cock is electrifying, winding Chanyeol tighter and tighter until he can’t stop the incoherent words falling from his mouth, but it’s the look in Baekhyun’s eyes that does it, molten and enticing. 

Chanyeol’s mind blanks, chanting _please_ and _Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun_ as he convulses into desperate thrusts forward and falls apart when Baekhyun dips the tip of his tongue into his sensitive slit, fire burning up across his skin as he cries out, coming hard and hot into Baekhyun’s waiting mouth. 

It takes a minute before Chanyeol comes back to his senses, with Baekhyun helping him ride out the after waves. Despite still shaking slightly, he pulls Baekhyun off the ground and back into his lap, peppering feverish kisses all down Baekhyun’s neck before capturing his lips, long and hard. Baekhyun looks surprised by the sudden intensity but welcomes it nonetheless. 

“Hey, calm down,” he laughs, “’What’s all this for?”

Chanyeol just looks at Baekhyun with awe. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

“Of course I do,” Baekhyun replies smugly, but he smiles anyway.

Suddenly, a problem occurs to Chanyeol. A very obvious problem tenting the front of Baekhyun’s jeans. “Baek, let me help you.” 

Baekhyun shakes his head and makes to stand up. “You’re tired. I can take care of this myself.”

“I’m never too tired for you, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol says, holding Baekhyun down with a hand on his waist. “Let me do this. Please?” He does his best puppy-dog eyes.

Baekhyun relents, relaxing into Chanyeol’s grip. “Only you could go from sex god to a five-year old within five minutes,” he says, hiding the fondness in his tone. 

Chanyeol reddens. 

Baekhyun continues, “And if you’re serious about this—”

“Of course I am,” Chanyeol interjects.

“Well, I wasn’t lying when I said that blowing you gets me off.” Baekhyun’s voice gets lower and softer and there it is again, the tone that has Chanyeol’s stomach plummeting. Baekhyun coughs a little to divert from his slight embarrassment. Chanyeol finds it cute. “I’m really close, Chanyeol,” he whispers, a hint of pink tingeing his face, but he scoots closer on Chanyeol’s lap. 

Chanyeol moves quickly to undo Baekhyun’s jeans, fumbling with the button in his haste and it has Baekhyun humming in amusement. Baekhyun isn’t so amused a moment later as Chanyeol moves lower, and it’s strangely arousing that Baekhyun is straining so hard against the tight confines that he can barely get the zipper down. 

As soon as Chanyeol wrenches the zipper into cooperation, he notes that _fuck_ , Baekhyun isn’t wearing any underwear. Of course he wouldn’t. That makes the sight even better, even more lewd, but intensely _hot_ , with Baekhyun’s skintight jeans not even halfway down his thighs, swollen cock flushed a deep scarlet and immediately curved up to his stomach, dripping a mess of precome in his pants that nearly seeps through the fabric. 

Chanyeol’s never thought of a dick as something pretty, but it’s fitting that a person like Baekhyun would even have a pretty dick. The head is especially pink, smeared with precome and still leaking more. Chanyeol’s throat is so, so dry. 

Baekhyun is quiet, watching his reaction. His thighs are spread obscenely wide like this on either side of Chanyeol, and that’s when Chanyeol remembers that he should probably stop staring and do something. 

“Shit, Baek,” Chanyeol says apologetically, “That must hurt. I’ll make it stop, okay?” 

Chanyeol presses a quick kiss to the corner of Baekhyun’s mouth before he reaches down to pump Baekhyun’s length slowly from base to tip and the slide is so slick it’s almost too much, but Baekhyun clearly seems not to mind, sighing in relief at the touch, bracing himself against Chanyeol. 

Chanyeol grips more firmly now, giving a teasing squeeze around the base that has Baekhyun keening. The pressure makes Baekhyun feel like he’s about to burst, and he’s so tightly strung that the roughness of the callouses on Chanyeol’s hands allows for the most incredible friction dragging over his over-sensitive cock. Chanyeol seems suddenly distracted when he runs a finger up Baekhyun’s weeping slit to catch some of the creamy precome. Baekhyun’s entire body wracks with tremors at the sharp pleasure and he nearly cries when Chanyeol pulls away. 

Baekhyun is so preoccupied that he nearly misses it when Chanyeol lifts his hand to his mouth. 

“What are you doing?” Baekhyun asks, shocked. He catches Chanyeol’s wrist, albeit shaking too much to really hold him back. “You don’t want to taste that.” 

“Why not? You did it for me.” Chanyeol slips the digit between his lips anyway, and darts his tongue out to make sure he doesn’t miss any. “It tastes like you, Baekhyun.” He grins easily. 

Baekhyun has to take a deep breath to restrain himself. Chanyeol has absolutely _no idea_ how much of a turn-on it is to watch him lap up Baekhyun’s precome, for him to suck it off his own fingers. 

“That’s so fucking hot,” Baekhyun breathes, eyes falling shut. Chanyeol’s ears burn as he sees Baekhyun’s dick twitch and continue to leak more against his stomach. 

Instead of replying, Chanyeol fists at Baekhyun’s cock instead, the resulting noises downright filthy but Baekhyun drowns them out with increasingly louder and higher-pitched whimpers, fucking into the deliciously tight ring of Chanyeol’s fingers, rocking so desperately that he has to cling to Chanyeol’s biceps to keep from falling. Baekhyun’s shirt had rucked up, revealing the smooth skin of his stomach, the muscles tensing with every thrust. 

Baekhyun’s delirious, a sheen of sweat on his forehead and across his collarbones as he begs for more, more, _more_. Entranced, Chanyeol leans forward to mouth at the delicate skin at the base of Baekhyun’s neck, suckling at the faint taste of salt and scraping his teeth over the flesh just enough to make Baekhyun’s hips stutter. 

Looking up, Chanyeol sees just how perfectly debauched Baekhyun looks, black hair disheveled from his fingers tangling through it, head thrown back to reveal the slender column of his neck, pink mouth open and panting. He rubs soothing circles into Baekhyun’s back with his free hand encouragingly. 

“Come, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol says, raspy and voice dipped an octave lower. 

Baekhyun only manages a broken whine in response. Chanyeol pumps him even more roughly, the pressure of his hand harder, and with every stroke, Baekhyun’s cock throbs harder, bouncing, veins protruding all down the sides and impossibly, he seems to swell even more. 

It’s then that Baekhyun buries his face into Chanyeol’s shoulder, wrenching a strangled, butchered moan from his throat, thighs quaking uncontrollably until he stills altogether into a shuddering mess, spilling thick stripes of come into Chanyeol’s hand and nearly sobbing from the force of his orgasm. 

 

When Baekhyun finally comes down from his high, over-sensitive and sticky but sated, he continues breathing in Chanyeol’s comforting scent, bodies still slotted close together. 

“Don’t you dare fall asleep on me, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol warns.

Baekhyun lifts his head to look at Chanyeol. “I just had a mind-blowing orgasm,” he says, “Let me live.”

Chanyeol colors slightly. He picks Baekhyun up from his lap and sets him down in a chair, wincing at the mess on both their clothes and thinks that they definitely can’t come to work tomorrow like this. Baekhyun makes a vague noise of complaint.

“Stay there, you baby,” Chanyeol says, shaking his head. “I’m going to get something to clean us up.”

“M’kay,” Baekhyun murmurs. “You’re the best.” 

Chanyeol walks away smiling despite himself. 

***

Chanyeol cleans both of them up with a wet towel (he’s sure Joonmyun will never let him hear the end of it if he sees what they’ve done, so he takes it with him and vows to buy a replacement.) After a considerable amount of whining, Baekhyun gets up to help Chanyeol sanitize the chairs and anything else they might’ve gotten dirty. 

When they finish locking up the restaurant, it’s past midnight. They walk back to Chanyeol’s apartment down streets of mostly empty storefronts, some late-night businesses lit up with neon signs but it’s mostly only the stars and streetlamps that provide them with light. Somewhere along the way, Baekhyun fits his hand into Chanyeol’s wordlessly, lacing their fingers together and swinging their arms as they go through the dark. 

Back inside Chanyeol’s apartment building, Baekhyun presses Chanyeol against his door for another kiss, this time sweet and soft. 

“Thank you, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun says quietly.

“For what?” Chanyeol can’t help asking.

Baekhyun doesn’t reply, taking the keys from Chanyeol to unlock the door instead. Inside, the apartment is surprisingly mostly neat, courtesy of Baekhyun when he stays over, which is more often than not nowadays. Still, Chanyeol has to shove a music stand out of the way here or a stack of composition paper there. 

“I need a shower,” Baekhyun declares to no one in particular. “I feel disgustingly sticky.” 

Chanyeol opens his mouth but before he can get anything out, Baekhyun shakes a finger at him.  
“Don’t say it.”

Baekhyun simply starts undressing right there, not even bothering to turn away from Chanyeol. He undoes his dress shirt first, wrinkled and first few buttons already haphazardly opened. As Baekhyun continues, exposing more and more unblemished skin, Chanyeol tries very hard not to look to the way the lean muscles flex in Baekhyun’s back as he moves, his dusky nipples perking in the cool air, his slim waist that flares out into curvy hips. Baekhyun suddenly speaks up again, a hint of teasing in his voice. 

“Join me in the shower?” he invites. Baekhyun knows. 

Chanyeol gulps and it takes considerable effort to refuse. “I’d better not,” he says, “I can wait until you’re finished.”

“No?” Baekhyun asks innocently. “Is there any chance I could persuade you?” 

He’s moved closer now, only in his skintight jeans, breath tickling against Chanyeol’s ear. Baekhyun places a hand on Chanyeol’s chest, sliding it lower and lower but keeps his eyes on Chanyeol’s, glinting mischievously. Chanyeol’s heart stutters. 

Just before Baekhyun reaches Chanyeol’s crotch, and just as Chanyeol’s beginning to press up against Baekhyun involuntarily, he pulls back with a little smirk. “At least help me get my jeans off, then.”

Baekhyun settles on the edge of Chanyeol’s bed and raises an eyebrow expectantly. Before Chanyeol knows it, he’s right in front of Baekhyun, towering over him and caging him in against the mattress but with the predatory way Baekhyun watches back, it feels more like he’s the prey. 

Baekhyun doesn’t help much at all, only shifting his weight slightly to ease the process as Chanyeol struggles with his godforsaken jeans. Chanyeol has to peel the fabric down painstakingly inch by inch, catching on the sharp V of Baekhyun’s hipbones and holding tight to the curve of his ample ass and _God_ , he thinks, Baekhyun’s bare thighs could really kill a man. When Chanyeol finally drops the pants on the floor, he feels like he can’t breathe. He directs his eyes at the ground, making sure to stare at nothing but Baekhyun’s delicately crossed ankles. 

Baekhyun stands up. The sudden motion startles Chanyeol and he has no time to step back. He finds himself shoved roughly down on the bed when Baekhyun flips their positions in a burst of strength, and now he has a lapful of a decidedly very naked Baekhyun.

In a brief moment of hesitation, Chanyeol catches the purposeful way Baekhyun’s eyeing him before he leans in for an urgent kiss, tongue pressing insistently forward, licking hot and sweet into Chanyeol’s mouth. All the while, Baekhyun’s busy rucking up Chanyeol’s shirt, slim fingers dancing down the planes of his stomach to feel the way Chanyeol tenses at his touch until Chanyeol gives in and helps strip the shirt off. 

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” Chanyeol asks, fully intending to laugh but getting too distracted by Baekhyun’s lips in the process. 

Baekhyun grins. “You know you love it.”

He grabs Chanyeol by the hand and pulls him to the bathroom, shucking off the rest of Chanyeol’s clothes as they go. 

***

Chanyeol tries to turn the taps to the cooler side in the shower, hoping to prevent himself from popping another erection if Baekhyun gets a little too frisky. 

Baekhyun is surprisingly tame at first. He keeps his hands to himself, rubbing shampoo into his hair and lathering himself up with body wash. Even without Baekhyun touching him, it’s a problem, Chanyeol soon realizes. 

Baekhyun is ridiculously appealing when he’s not doing anything in particular, but it becomes clear as time goes on that it’s not by mistake, the slow slip of his fingers as Baekhyun rinses, how he bends over for longer than necessary, the way his lips part every time he follows the path of water rivulets down the dips of Chanyeol’s back. 

It’s not long before Baekhyun kisses Chanyeol under the spray of the shower, tasting water and warmth. Baekhyun looks good even drenched like this, Chanyeol thinks, and it’s even better when Baekhyun presses their bodies together, guiding Chanyeol’s hands to drag up his curves or settle dangerously close to his perky nipples. Chanyeol can’t resist much more than that, hands roaming hungrily over every inch of Baekhyun that he can reach and it’s so much milky skin offered up and it’s all for _him_. 

Chanyeol even hitches Baekhyun’s thigh up around his waist as Baekhyun captures his lips again, hard, and he swallows down the contented sighs that Baekhyun exhales. Chanyeol can’t seem to stop running his palms up and down the smooth skin and marveling at the contrast between Baekhyun’s overheated flesh and the cool water. 

It does nothing to help Chanyeol’s spiking arousal when Baekhyun fixes on a single drop of water running down his neck and his soft lips flutter at Chanyeol’s pulse, a hot touch of his tongue as he kisses the droplet away. 

Baekhyun’s hands are wandering too, one dipping lower and lower to tease at Chanyeol’s half-hard dick, but it won’t take long until he’s aching again, not with Baekhyun’s strategic touches, giving a little but never nearly enough. 

Just a few minutes later, they end up stumbling out of the bathroom, with Chanyeol throwing a towel over them and holding carefully to Baekhyun’s waist to make sure he won’t slip. They’re both clean anyway, but it seems like their efforts might be wasted. 

Baekhyun flashes that wicked grin at him again, stalking toward Chanyeol until he’s cornered against the bed. 

“Round two?” he asks, eyes twinkling, stepping between Chanyeol’s legs. 

It’s only when Chanyeol takes a look at the clock on his nightstand that he remembers they have work the next day, and it’s already one in the morning. 

“Baek,” Chanyeol pleads half-heartedly, “You know how Joonmyun will get if we both don’t show up tomorrow.” He sounds incredibly unconvincing, especially with the soft moan he makes when Baekhyun rubs himself into his lap.

“Call him now,” Baekhyun suggests after a moment. He fishes out his phone from the discarded clothes on the floor and hands it to Chanyeol. “Tell him we’ll be late,” he says, voice hypnotizingly low against Chanyeol’s ear.

Even though it’s such a bad idea, Chanyeol’s already made up his mind to dial Joonmyun’s number, but Baekhyun seems to think he needs a little more incentive.

Baekhyun drops his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ll let you fuck me if you do.”

Chanyeol nearly drops the phone. His mind is suddenly filled with vivid images of Baekhyun, folded in half, Baekhyun, legs spread for him, touching himself desperately—he swallows. Chanyeol’s not wearing anything, so there’s nothing between him and Baekhyun, nothing to hide the way Chanyeol hardens just at his own fantasy. 

Baekhyun looks all too smug as Chanyeol fumbles to call Joonmyun. 

On the eighth ring, just when Chanyeol thinks Joonmyun won’t pick up, there’s a click as the call connects. 

“Hello?” A groggy voice speaks from the other end.

Chanyeol braces himself mentally for Joonmyun’s wrath. “Hi, Joonmyun—“

He sucks in a harsh breath suddenly. Chanyeol looks down to find Baekhyun toying with the head of his cock, running his fingers along the underside. 

“Chanyeol?” Joonmyun sounds a lot more awake now. “Are you okay? Did something happen?” There’s rustling from the other side, as if Joonmyun is sitting up and already pushing the covers back. 

“Nothing happened. I just needed to tell you that—“ Chanyeol’s breath hitches. Baekhyun raises an eyebrow at him, as if daring him to keep quiet as he continues with full, slow strokes, wrist flicking just so each time he reaches the tip of Chanyeol’s length, enough to have Chanyeol bucking up for more, a low whine starting in his throat. Baekhyun holds his hips down with his other hand, shaking his head. 

“Naughty, aren’t you?” Baekhyun scolds playfully, quiet enough so only Chanyeol can hear. “Focus on your conversation,” he says, even as he presses the tip of his thumb into Chanyeol’s slit until his hips jerk and his stomach clenches, making a bead of precum ooze from the flushed tip. Baekhyun smirks knowingly at the way Chanyeol bites hard on his own palm to keep silent. 

“Chanyeol?” Joonmyun’s voice comes again, even more worried this time. “I’m coming to your apartment right now if you don’t tell me what’s going on in the next ten seconds.”

“ _Ah_ , hah, please don’t, Joonmyun.” Chanyeol’s reddening all the way down to his chest at the sounds slipping from his own throat when Baekhyun mouths down the length of his cock, tongue darting out to lap at the swollen flesh, suckling softly in places, leaving him shiny with hot saliva. 

“I just—Baekhyun and I will probably be late to the lunch shift tomorrow.” Chanyeol’s stuttering now, vocabulary failing him as Baekhyun climbs into his lap, attaching his lips to Chanyeol’s clavicle, scraping hickeys into the skin there and _Christ_ , then Baekhyun’s fitting Chanyeol’s straining dick to the soft curve of his bare ass, grinding wantonly at his hardness until he whimpers at the incredible sensation of heated skin on skin. 

Baekhyun’s own erection is leaking, the tip pressing into Chanyeol’s stomach, and Baekhyun’s caught between pressing forward to get friction on his cock or down, where Chanyeol’s rutting against him. Chanyeol can’t even think straight, panting heavily against Baekhyun’s lips as they crash together. 

“Are you having sex right now?” Joonmyun sounds incredulous. “With Baekhyun?!” Chanyeol’s forgotten that Joonmyun can still hear. Baekhyun gasps then, so breathy and painfully seductive when Chanyeol rubs him just right. 

“I’m hanging up. You better be there tomorrow,” Joonmyun says shrilly. Before he disconnects the call, Chanyeol hears him say something that sounds distinctly like a grumble about waking up to indecent sounds in the middle of the night. 

“Finally,” Baekhyun says, voice shaky. He tosses the phone aside, not caring much for where it lands. 

Chanyeol’s impatient too, throat gone dry and heat pooling in his stomach as Baekhyun crawls down the length of the bed. Baekhyun looks absolutely sinful like this, knees spread apart, back arched to press his pretty ass into the air, perfectly debauched-looking with a trace of Chanyeol’s precome dripping slowly from the cleft. His reddened cock hangs heavily between those tempting, creamy thighs. Baekhyun dips his hips forward, rolling them against the sheets, rubbing himself into the mattress and whining in search of relief. 

“Please, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun pants, eyes unfocused. “Lube, lube. I need something in me right now.” 

Baekhyun’s exposed position right now gives Chanyeol a perfect view of the way his pink rim flutters as he begs. Meanwhile, with a frustrated whine, Baekhyun pumps furiously at his own straining cock, eyes shut and mouth falling open in heavy breaths and spilling obscene little cries, but the sight has Chanyeol paralyzed for a moment. 

Snapping back to his senses, Chanyeol finds the bottle of lube in his bedside drawer, intending to help prepare Baekhyun himself. Instead, Baekhyun snatches it from him immediately, pouring a generous amount onto his fingers. He pushes Chanyeol back against the headboard, wide-eyed, with his other hand.

“Watch,” he commands breathlessly.

Without hesitation, Baekhyun reaches behind himself to dip the first finger into his pretty hole. His back bows even more sharply at the mere contact, lips parted in a pleased whimper. All too quickly, he presses in a second finger alongside the first, pumping them slowly at first, experimentally in and out before beginning to scissor them, spreading him open to Chanyeol’s gaze. 

The sight is more than provocative, with Baekhyun fucking himself onto his own delicate fingers, curving and pressing deep, wringing sighs from his bitten mouth, thighs trembling, unable to keep himself upright anymore. Baekhyun has three in him now and his rim is slightly swollen, drawn tight over the intrusion as he rocks back onto his hand, excess lube slicking down his inner thighs.

Baekhyun looks nearly feverish, pink flush staining his cheeks. “It’s not enough,” he insists. “I need you to, _ah_ , fill me up.” 

He’s shuddering hard, almost uncontrollably, and Baekhyun looks beautifully wrecked. Now, after withdrawing his fingers, his hole is gaping between his ass cheeks, clenching desperately around nothing in a way that has Chanyeol’s stomach tightening with another surge of heat, breath hitching just imagining how Baekhyun would feel around him. 

“Fuck me,” Baekhyun invites, eyes darkened, pupils blown in lust, like Chanyeol needs any more urging. 

He strokes firmly down Chanyeol’s length for a good measure though there’s really no need, since Chanyeol’s already past the point of throbbing, cock curved up and swollen thick from watching Baekhyun and palming at himself. He looks absolutely delectable, Baekhyun thinks deliriously. 

Baekhyun abruptly slides off the bed, rifling through his discarded clothes until he fishes out a condom, ripping the packet open. Quickly, he slides it down over Chanyeol, maddeningly light touches only intensifying the ache and the coolness of the lube spreading over him only sparking his arousal with the contrast to Baekhyun’s hot touch. 

Luckily, Baekhyun’s past the point of patience too. Baekhyun shoves Chanyeol down roughly, pinning his wrists to the sides of his head, eyes black with lust and so, so needy as he sucks at Chanyeol’s bottom lip, kissing fierce and eager until both their mouths are a fresh ruined red. 

Baekhyun wants more, and he’s aching from just how much he _wants_ , settling for messily fisting at both himself and Chanyeol at once with slender fingers struggling to wrap around the sheer girth. The slide is absolutely filthy, hand slicked with lube and the milky precome he’s leaking but the friction as Baekhyun strains against Chanyeol and the harsh squeeze he gives around their dicks sends jolts of electricity through him, hips jerking forward with a shivering gasp. 

It’s still almost too fast when Baekhyun lines himself up. He rubs his entrance teasingly over the swollen head for only a moment before beginning to sink down, and _God_ , Baekhyun can’t keep himself from whining at the stretch, legs falling open even further as he grinds himself over just the tip. He’s so wrecked already that he can’t imagine how it would feel to have Chanyeol slamming into him. 

Meanwhile, Chanyeol’s reeling, dizzy from the mere sight of Baekhyun lowering himself onto him, with his plush thighs spread to reveal the obscene pink of his pretty cock, pearls of precum forming at the slit, hard and bobbing with each movement of Baekhyun’s hips. The sensation is even more incredible, with Baekhyun being tighter beyond any imagination, so much so that he barely fits over Chanyeol’s cock, clenching so hard around him with the most intense heat that Chanyeol can’t breathe, as if trying to milk him dry. 

Chanyeol tries hard to think rationally instead. He steadies Baekhyun with large hands holding securely to his waist, stopping him from going any further. 

“Baek, listen to me. You have to slow down,” he manages brokenly through harsh breaths and _fuck_ , he’s so turned on right now that it physically hurts. “You’re going to hurt yourself.” 

Baekhyun has a wild look in his eyes, desperate and hazed as he shakes his head. “Please,” he begs, trying to circle his hips despite Chanyeol’s firm grip, nearly sobbing in frustration. “Please, Chanyeol, I can take it. I just need _more_.” Baekhyun’s voice shakes, leaving off into a whine at the last word. 

Chanyeol relents only a little, loosening his hold so Baekhyun can shift but the movement is so sudden he doesn’t have the time to stop it. Baekhyun abruptly sinks down all the way until his rim is squeezing around Chanyeol’s base, perky ass flush against Chanyeol’s hips and the drawn-out sigh he lets out, trembling and husky, is perfectly lewd. 

_Christ_ , there’s nothing Chanyeol can do about it now, shuddering at the sensation of Baekhyun all around, but he thinks he can’t last much longer if Baekhyun keeps this up, making those melodic sounds and grinding with Chanyeol’s dick pressed inside him. 

The stretch undoubtedly burns, but Baekhyun doesn’t mind the slight sting, tugging at the pleasure simmering in his stomach instead. Baekhyun relishes it even, because he’s finally, finally impossibly full of Chanyeol, thick and pulsing and absolutely carnal, fucking him open in a way his fingers could never compare. 

Once Baekhyun adjusts enough, he lifts himself up slightly before rocking back to test the angle. Baekhyun nearly forgets to breathe. Like this, he can feel every fucking inch of Chanyeol dragging delicious friction where he needs it most and it’s so, _so_ good that he can’t even think about the embarrassingly loud cries building at the back of his throat with every thrust. 

Chanyeol helps Baekhyun up until only the tip is left inside him, and Baekhyun slams down just as Chanyeol bucks up into his heat, both moaning low at the insane pressure. Each time Baekhyun lifts himself up, Chanyeol gets a perfect glimpse of where his pink hole is stretched wide to accommodate his swollen cock, blooming prettily around his girth as Baekhyun sinks down again with a whimper, and Chanyeol watches as his fluttering rim sucks greedily until his straining length disappears, fully seated within. 

Baekhyun rides him relentlessly, bouncing wildly, cock slapping against his own stomach. He grips hard onto Chanyeol’s shoulders, too breathless to kiss properly but brushing their lips together anyway. Baekhyun’s positively mewling now as he fucks himself open on Chanyeol’s lap, soft little noises almost kittenish wrenched from his reddened mouth, winding higher and higher into a throaty moan that the neighbors will surely hear. 

Baekhyun sees stars bursting behind his eyes, nearly blacking out as he collapses into Chanyeol. Just the tip of Chanyeol’s dick is rubbing at that sweet spot that makes him go weak, nearly sobbing as Chanyeol holds his hips in place even as he shudders uncontrollably to continue fucking against that spot until it’s almost too much, cock twitching and the pleasure dizzying.

Chanyeol lunges upwards now into a sitting position, seeing that Baekhyun is too wrecked, thighs quaking against Chanyeol’s waist with desperate cries and blunt nails scratching down over Chanyeol’s biceps. 

Chanyeol rocks Baekhyun in his lap, bouncing him up and down with slick sounds of skin on skin, the slide of his cock into Baekhyun’s tightness. Baekhyun’s so needy, now unashamedly tugging roughly at himself, his cries of Chanyeol’s name sinful until he stops, back arching, eyes fluttered shut, shivering all over in Chanyeol’s arms as Baekhyun muffles a scream into the crook of his neck, hips canting as his abused cock shudders, spilling thick ribbons of white over Chanyeol’s stomach. 

Baekhyun’s muscles spasm, squeezing Chanyeol harder and hotter until it’s almost unbearably searing, wrenching Chanyeol’s orgasm from him until he’s shaking and moaning into Baekhyun’s kiss, chest heaving as he finally comes, the pleasure blanking his mind. 

 

When they finally recover, a pleasant buzz settling in their veins, Chanyeol gets up to grab a wet cloth to clean up. Tired and sated and not particularly wanting to step into the shower for the second time that night, Baekhyun and Chanyeol clean up as best as they can and settle under the covers despite their overheated skin. 

Chanyeol looks as if he’s asleep within minutes, even more child-like and innocent. It’s then that Baekhyun lifts a finger to trace softly down Chanyeol’s jaw, his eyelids, the bow of his lips. Chanyeol’s not asleep though, and Baekhyun feels it in the way Chanyeol smiles against his touch. 

“Go to sleep,” is all Baekhyun says, mildly embarrassed. 

Chanyeol opens his eyes drowsily and props his head up against the pillow, lazy grin still in place, hair wildly fluffy. He laces his fingers with Baekhyun’s, watching the faint flush spread when he dips his head to Baekhyun’s hand to place a kiss over each knuckle. Chanyeol places a kiss on Baekhyun’s mouth too for a good measure when he pouts.

“Goodnight,” he says, thumb rubbing over Baekhyun’s palm. And they fall asleep just like that, smiling just slightly, Baekhyun shifting to curl into Chanyeol’s chest when he thinks Chanyeol won’t notice. 

 

(Joonmyun is only mildly scandalized and everyone else is only mildly surprised, grinning knowingly at the hickeys blooming over both Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s throats when they walk into Viva Polo past noon the next day. At this rate, the customers probably know, too, that they belong to each other.)

***

Chanyeol can be oblivious at times. But right now, even he’s not _that_ oblivious. The first time, he’s a little confused as to why the girl (“Eunhye,” she supplied, dimpling brilliantly) was so eager to get her drink, brushing her fingers down Chanyeol’s wrist before he can even put the glass in front of her. Her friends smirk behind their hands and look Chanyeol up and down so thoroughly that his skin prickles uncomfortably. He steps away quickly and feels the need to apologize, though he’s not sure what for. 

The second time, it still might be a mistake. Chanyeol tells himself that anyway when Eunhye tips over the dish of soup as he hands it to her. Unfortunately, most of the spill lands on Chanyeol. 

“Don’t worry, it happens.” He smiles reassuringly at Eunhye after she bursts into apology. “Excuse me for a moment. I’ll bring you another dish.” 

That’s when Eunhye stops him with a manicured hand on Chanyeol’s forearm. 

“No, I feel awful,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s my fault. I’ll help you clean up.” 

Despite Chanyeol’s protests, Eunhye stands up, grabs a napkin from the holder at the end of the table, and begins scrubbing at the quickly forming stain. She doesn’t seem to be too concerned with actually getting the soup off, though, seeing as her gaze is fixed on Chanyeol’s face instead of the bottom of his shirt. She’s _rubbing_ at Chanyeol’s stomach now while biting on her pink-lipsticked lips in a way that she surely thought was sensual. Chanyeol distractedly thinks that Baekhyun’s lips look prettier. Holding onto her hand, he detaches her as gently as possible. 

“Thanks, but really, I’ve got it,” Chanyeol says. He refuses to make eye contact, afraid of how Eunhye might react, and picks up the ruined soup instead. 

 

Baekhyun doesn’t wait for the girl to have a third chance. He can’t hear what they’re saying from the other side of the restaurant – and really, he’s not the type to be like this—but something simmers in his stomach when she touches Chanyeol like that and it’s clearly unwanted. Baekhyun figures he’d show her what Chanyeol does want. 

He tells his table, “I’ll be just a minute,” and flashes a tight smile.

Without hesitation, Baekhyun strides toward table five, where Chanyeol’s currently gathering up the dishes. As he approaches, a couple of the other girls take notice of him. Baekhyun decides to slow his walk to an unhurried pace, with more sway to his hips than usual. When he’s standing right behind Chanyeol, Baekhyun leans forward to rest his chin on Chanyeol’s shoulder.

Chanyeol looks back in surprise, expression immediately brightening. “Hey Baek, what’s up?“

“Nothing. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Baekhyun looks pointedly at Eunhye. Chanyeol doesn’t notice his tone. 

While Chanyeol brightens, Eunhye’s face darkens. Baekhyun admittedly enjoys her sour look more than he should. He would’ve even been satisfied to leave her like this if it weren’t for the next words she said.

“You guys are friends, right? I think it’s cute that you’re so close.” Eunhye smiles sweetly straight at Baekhyun. 

Chanyeol rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Actually, we’re—“

No one gets to hear the rest of Chanyeol’s sentence. Baekhyun abruptly tugs Chanyeol to him by the belt loops until they’re flush against each other, noses touching. 

“Mine,” Baekhyun breathes before leaning in. 

Baekhyun only means to give Chanyeol an innocent kiss to prove a point. But Chanyeol’s mouth is soft and eager on Baekhyun’s and he’s so, so responsive when Baekhyun sucks hard on his full bottom lip, letting out the softest gasp that only Baekhyun can hear. The sound burns warm in his veins. Baekhyun wants to hear more. 

Somehow, Baekhyun ends up with his fingers tangled through Chanyeol’s hair, one thigh halfway hitched around Chanyeol’s waist when they finally break apart reluctantly. Baekhyun feels a surge of satisfaction at how dazed and mildly turned on Chanyeol looks, eyes unfocused and hair tousled and mouth perfectly reddened. He grins at the thought that he probably looks just as wrecked, that Chanyeol does this to him. 

Someone lets out a long breath. “Damn,” one of Eunhye’s friends whispers quietly.

“Wow,” Chanyeol manages, seemingly at a loss for what to say.

“I’ve missed you, babe.” Baekhyun’s mouth is ghosting at the base of Chanyeol’s neck then, but the curl of a smirk lingers tauntingly on his kiss-swollen lips. He stares challengingly back at Eunhye. 

Chanyeol drops a kiss on his forehead, arm still wrapped securely around Baekhyun. “We haven’t been further than thirty feet apart all day, Baek.” He grins. “Not that I mind.”

Meanwhile, Eunhye is completely silent, a picture of shock and rage with her fists balled up and a flush coloring the tops of her cheeks. She looks like an angry squirrel, Baekhyun observes, pleased. 

The rest of the customers in Viva Polo seem to have caught on at this point. Various parties have turned their heads at the commotion. To both Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s surprise, many of them are clapping, some even laughing, cheering, whistling in their direction. One high-school student even flashes a thumbs-up at a very smug Baekhyun wound up in Chanyeol’s arms. 

Eunhye smacks her palm against the table petulantly, startling one of her friends that started applauding too. 

“Eunhye, stop being salty because they’re obviously getting some and you aren’t. He looks better with that pretty short guy anyway.” 

Baekhyun overhears and grins at her. “Maybe you should listen to your friend, Eunhye.”

Eunhye snatches up her jacket and stalks out the door. “Have fun mauling each other, you filthy dogs,” she snaps over her shoulder.

Baekhyun waves brightly as she leaves and Chanyeol looks torn between being amused and mildly apologetic. No one is particularly upset to see her go, though, and the cheering continues for a good few minutes before finally petering out.

***

As it draws closer to the start of the school year, the air gets a little crisper and the weather is more suited to the skintight jeans that Baekhyun favors so much. Chanyeol finally admits to himself that he’s actually gotten used to working in Viva Polo over the summer months. 

There’s a certain vibe to the restaurant that Chanyeol can’t place.

It can maybe be described by the feeling Chanyeol got the time Luhan somehow convinced Yixing to lock the front doors, leaving Chanyeol to frantically pull at the handle while Yixing stood on the other side of the glass, smiling serenely and pointing at his ear to indicate that he couldn’t hear. Or maybe the feeling could be described by huge tomato sauce stain Sehun had gotten on the wall, which Minseok helped cover up by plastering Polaroids and posters over it. 

It’s funny, Chanyeol thinks, that he might actually miss the way Tao immediately evacuates the main room when an insect flies in, the awful burnt smell when Jongin and Sehun cook together, the customers (mostly female) asking Yifan for eyebrow care tips. 

And now it’s their last day. Chanyeol’s mother is pleased with the relative success of the restaurant (evidently, she doesn’t know how exactly they’re running the business) and she plans on hiring a fresh crew of employees to take over when all the current workers start another semester of college. It’s not that big of a deal, Chanyeol supposes, since they all go to Seoul Arts, but there’s the slightest pang that it won’t be the same, not with all their different majors. 

The sky’s been dark for a while now. It seems that the rest of the staff are also affected by the change in atmosphere, since not even Jongdae talks as much as usual when they prepare to eat dinner together for the last time (as employees, anyway) at Viva Polo. 

Chanyeol clears his throat. “We’re still going to hang out, right?” It was supposed to be a casual question, but somehow it comes out clingy and unsure. Baekhyun just laces their fingers together under the table.

It takes a moment for someone to reply. Everyone seems to be expectantly waiting for another person to speak up first. In the end, it’s Luhan who says something. 

“Of course,” he says, sounding fondly scathing. “We obviously didn’t just come for the food, or else we’d have left a long time ago.” Luhan coughs to hide the end of his sentence when he finds Kyungsoo staring right at him. “But the food is great too,” he tacks on lamely.

Sehun nods in agreement. “You know the crusty tomato sauce that sticks on the bottom of the pan? I feel like that’s a metaphor for us.”

Jongin pats at Sehun’s back. “It’s a good thing you’re a dance major, not a songwriter.” 

“Hey,” Sehun argues, “My adlibs to the birthday song are iconic.”

“’Shawty I’mma party till the sundown’ is not—“ Jongdae starts. 

“Hey,” Yixing pipes up, bewildered. “How is that a metaphor?”

Yifan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Xing, he means that we’re stuck together for life like old tomato sauce to a pan. In a good way. Hopefully.”

“Can we not get sappy?” Tao’s leaned against a table, looking unimpressed. 

Minseok raises an eyebrow. “You were the one crying in the bathroom earlier.”

“Okay, I have severe allergies in the fall—“

“It’s only the end of August,” Joonmyun points out.

Jongdae claps his hands together loudly. “Alright, basically, we all love each other. Now shut the hell up.” He winks at the others. “You guys have things to do, don’t you?” 

“Except you two. Stay here.” Jongdae waves Baekhyun and Chanyeol away as they begin to stand up. “Make out on the table or something. We don’t need any more help messing up in the kitchen.”

Chanyeol makes an offended noise but cuts off abruptly when Baekhyun leans into his side, whispering something into his ear. 

Luhan and Minseok look on with matching expressions of somewhat fond disgust. 

“Ah, young love,” Luhan says wistfully.

Minseok smacks at his arm lightly. “Are you calling us old?” 

Jongdae throws his hands up. “I swear, there are too many couples in this restaurant.” He taps their shoulders. “We have a _plan_ , you pervs, let’s get to it.”

 

It takes only about ten minutes before the rest of the staff appears from the kitchen again. Soft accordion music plays from someone’s phone on the counter. Kyungsoo is holding a plate of what seems to be spaghetti and meatballs, while the rest are hiding something small in their hands. 

Baekhyun looks taken aback at the sight. “What are you guys doing?”

Tao snorts. “It’s called romance.”

Sehun speaks up out of nowhere. “These are actually battery powered.” Jongin elbows him in the ribs. “Hey, it’s true. We didn’t want to accidentally burn down Viva Polo on our last day. Also, Jongdae is just cheap.”

Jongdae shrugs. “What? I can admit it.”

All at once, little yellow lights flick on, presumably from the battery-powered candles they each held. Jongdae gestures frantically for them to arrange themselves in a circle around where Chanyeol and Baekhyun are sitting.

“Why do I get the feeling that I’m about to be sacrificed?” Chanyeol says. 

“Shut up, asshole,” Kyungsoo says lightly. “We’re trying to do something nice for you.”

He places the dish of spaghetti on the table between Baekhyun and Chanyeol, stepping back quickly afterwards. Everyone seems to be staring at them expectantly, waiting for something to happen. 

“So are you two going to get on with it?” Jongdae asks impatiently. “It’s tiring to keep holding these candles.”

“Thanks for the pasta…?” Chanyeol says uncertainly. Baekhyun suddenly whispers out “ _Oh_ ,” in comprehension. 

“We’re dogs,” Baekhyun says, slapping the table emphatically. “Thanks,” Baekhyun grins up at their friends, “But we don’t need this.” He pushes the dish away. 

Instead, Baekhyun takes Luhan’s candle and walks to Chanyeol’s side.

“Romantic, isn’t it?” Baekhyun smiles easily, holding the plastic candle between them. The soft light and casted shadows highlight the angles in Chanyeol’s face. 

“ _Look at the skies_ ,” he sings softly with the background music, dark eyes molten. “ _They have stars in their eyes_.” Baekhyun takes a step closer. “ _On this lovely bella notte_ ,” he finishes, voice barely above a whisper, the lyrics breathed against Chanyeol’s lips.

From the moment Baekhyun started singing, comprehension dawned on Chanyeol. He listens to Baekhyun sing anyway, because Chanyeol thinks his voice is beautiful, much better than the mustachioed waiter in that Disney movie about dogs.

Noses nearly touching, Baekhyun pushes himself up on the tips of his toes to capture Chanyeol’s lips, slow and languid and filling both of them with a pleasant, fizzling warmth. Chanyeol’s hands come up to cradle Baekhyun’s jaw, touch rough in the best way, tipping Baekhyun forward with a contented sigh. 

It’s not enough, Baekhyun thinks, and he hopes that he’ll never get tired of this, of the way Chanyeol smiles into their kisses, the way Chanyeol gets breathless whenever Baekhyun touches him, the way he looks at Baekhyun when he thinks no one else is watching. The thought is so sudden and it urges Baekhyun with the need to simply be closer to Chanyeol. He tightens his grip on Chanyeol’s shoulders and jumps so his legs lock around Chanyeol’s waist, chests colliding with a soft gasp. 

Chanyeol immediately drops his hands to hook around Baekhyun’s knees to ensure he won’t fall, only holding on more desperately just to keep Baekhyun’s mouth on his, body arching sweetly into him just like this. 

When they finally break their kiss, they stay clinging to each other for a while longer, breath mingling in their proximity until they’re lightheaded from both the lack of oxygen and the taste of each other. Baekhyun stares up at Chanyeol in wonder, light-headed and chest heaving but Chanyeol does the same, eyes shining with a foolish grin on his face.

“Woo!” Joonmyun breaks the silence and starts cheering. 

“Fucking finally.” Kyungsoo shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “It kind of is a bella notte.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Mods' Notes: During the duration of BAE2016, we're kindly asking you to leave your reviews on [Livejournal](http://baeconandeggs.livejournal.com/45561.html). Thank you for reading!♥


End file.
